


The First Daughter and Her Agent

by LenFan88



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Agent! Derek Hale, Agent! Ennis, Agent! Erica Reyes, Agent! Melissa Mccall, Agent! Vernon Boyd, Agent!Jordan Parrish, Depictions of kidnapping, F/M, First Daughter! Lydia Martin, Fluff and Angst, Mention of past Lydia Martin/Jackson Whitmore, Minor Character Death, Physical Abuse, President! Natalie martin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-25
Updated: 2017-07-25
Packaged: 2018-12-06 23:14:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 50,542
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11610966
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LenFan88/pseuds/LenFan88
Summary: Lydia Martin is the daughter of the President of the United States and even though it comes with a lot of baggage, she has made it work for her. So when her mother decides to double her Secret Service protection without her consent, Lydia decides to make that work for her too. Refusing to be taken for a fool, Lydia ensnares Agent Jordan Parrish by using his lack of subtlety against him. Little does Jordan know that his biggest mistakes will lead to his best decision yet.





	The First Daughter and Her Agent

Lydia had resigned herself to the fact that she would probably never have an average life; she wouldn’t have even known what that looked like enough to even ask for one even if she could. Her life had always been, and would probably always be, anything but ordinary. She had decided a long time ago, however, that she could either allow her life to be dictated to her by a force too big to fight, or she could take advantage of the opportunities set in front of her. Lydia’s mother was nothing short massive hurricane, a storm too fierce to be reckoned with; she had been born for greatness and while her father had always been happy to bask in her light, Lydia had always preferred standing as far away from the spotlight as she could get. 

When she was very young, too young to be able to take a more mature perspective, she had asked her father what he could have possibly have seen in her mother when they met. In that moment of absolute rage she ranted to him about how it always seemed to her that her mother’s life revolved around making everyone else happy and that she wanted very little to do with her own family. She was angry at the world and in that moment she took it out on her favorite punching bag, her mother. Natalie had missed her presentation at her school’s science fair, another in a long line of missed events that to her mother were unavoidable, but to Lydia they could be used as fodder to use as proof of her lack of love. She would let the resentment build until it would boil over and she would have to release it, usually in a self-righteous fit of range that filled pages of her diary or writing a school report in favor of an opposing view that she knew her mother held, just out of spite. 

Her father took it all in stride and gave Lydia the only answer he could, the truth. Natalie had always been involved in politics. In high school she volunteered for campaigns, majored in political science in college, after which she went to Georgetown Law School and graduated top of her class. She then worked as an assistant campaign manager for Maryland’s State Senator Victoria Argent’s reelection campaign. After a successful campaign, she was given a job as a senior advisor during her time in Congress for six years and then was offered the position of campaign manager for the subsequent election. Another successful campaign meant she worked as her Deputy Chief of Staff for another six year term. When the Senator decided to retire, Natalie helped to advise the successor during their transition, but was encouraged to go into politics for herself. She returned to her home state of California and ran for the State Legislature in the House. She quickly rose to speaker of the House after only two years because she was so well liked and respected by her colleagues, many of whom had known her from her years working for Senator Argent in D.C. She was again encouraged to take the next step in her career and she ran for Governor. She had met Lydia’s father, John, while she was in the House and he was an aide to another Legislator. Everyone had expected her to employ herself in a political marriage, one from which she and her partner would both gain political capital, but Lydia’s father was widely unknown beyond the low level staff members in the State Legislature and regardless of its lack of prestige, he would continue that work for years, until he gave it up to care for Lydia full time and be an assistant to his wife. He liked his life like this, getting to watch her in the spotlight and care for his daughter full time. To him the answer to Lydia’s spiteful question was obvious. 

Natalie won her bid for the governorship and served for two consecutive terms before running for State Senator in Congress. While serving as Governor she had Lydia, who would grow up having only ever seen her mother in front of cameras and crowds, surrounded by body guards and an air of secrecy. Natalie served in Congress for many years until she decided to run for President at the behest of many in both parties that held deep respect and admiration for her. Lydia was 16 when she saw her mother announced President on TV; she and her father unfortunately, would miss the election party. He had been in the hospital for weeks with what they thought had been pneumonia; he would die the following week, never getting to see his wife serve a day in office, his daughter refusing to ever leave his side, even for a moment. It was there in the hospital that Lydia had asked him again why he would marry someone who so obviously cared far more about politics than her own family. She had asked him before and he had told her the same story about her mother’s work and about how her passion and ambition were what attracted him to her, but this time was different. Perhaps it was because she was older or perhaps it was because John knew that he was dying, but this time when she asked, she got a more honest and complete answer. Though she knew the basic story already, it was the details, hidden between the lines, which were foreign to her. 

For her entire life Lydia had been forced to stand behind her mother in the constant and unrelenting spotlight reserved for such celebrities. She had always shied away from such attention, fearing the spotlight; she was afraid that the media and the larger populace would pick apart her flaws like they did everyone else’s. She couldn’t understand why her dad, who also seemed to hate the spotlight, would have chosen to have such a noisy life with little to no privacy. John was always the calm and patient one of her parents; when he listened to the anger coming from his daughter as they watched Natalie bask in the applause, he laughed and gave her hand a squeeze. He then told her a story that helped to fill in the gaps of how her parents met in the State Legislature and fell in love. It was Natalie’s first year serving California and yet she walked among the halls as if she owned them, a kind of confidence that most people took years to earn and perfect, but John had seen it for what it was- a woman on a mission that only she could complete. She didn’t have time to be anxious or worry about what people thought of her; she genuinely believed that she could help her constituents and that her role in the government was to use the power of the government to do just that, help people. Despite how some perceived her, she wasn’t arrogant or pompous, she just didn’t like to waste time on politics – she wanted to spend time on policy. 

John smiled at Lydia as he remarked on how he used to watch her from afar. He was always blown away by her gift for great oratory and how she was unashamed to be the smartest person in the room. On their first date together she had told him that she genuinely believed she had been given her particular talents (such as a knack for remembering minute details, working and compromising with people she might not always agree with, and being able to explain her ideas and policies in a way everyone could relate to and understand) for a better purpose, to be a voice for the voiceless. Before their first date however, he had to get her to notice him. 

John had been in the background of House offices, making sure memos were delivered and coffee was always brewed. He had seen so many people constantly trying and failing to impress her, always kissing up to her and generally making fools of themselves. He decided that in order to get noticed by her he would have to make her laugh, to break through the tough exterior and see her smile, be the one person that asked nothing from her. Unfortunately, he would never get a chance to implement the right plan and his chance would come much sooner than he would have liked. 

He had been on his way back to the office from a meeting and had seen her walking in the opposite direction down the hallway. He became so intent on not making a fool of himself and on concentrating on walking with his head held high in a way he hoped made him look taller and more handsome that he hadn’t been watching where he was going and he slipped on the freshly mopped floor, papers flying everywhere. He was mortified with himself, terrified that he would look up and would see her laughing at him, or looking beyond him with disdain. Instead, when he looked up he saw her beautiful eyes looking over him with concern, no laughter or disgust, and she had stooped to help him up off of the floor. He thought at first her green eyes would be the death of him, but her smile when she saw that he was okay, was the moment that he knew he was really in trouble. No other woman would ever be able to compare. Her genuine care for others, obvious in her small acts of kindness, during their discussions on their first date, and time and again during her time in Office was what sustained his love for her. All of the cameras and political crap was just background noise for him. Her presence was enough to drown out all of the frivolous nuisances that come with being a spouse to a public official.

When John looked over and saw Lydia looking skeptical, he chuckled – she was as stubborn as her mother. For whatever reason, Natalie had felt the same about him; apparently, she found him funny and after only a short time knowing each other outside of the office, they married. He told her it was the best decision of his life, not only because his happiest years were those that were spent with her, but also because she gave him Lydia. It was then that his tone turned serious. His own childhood had not been as privileged as Natalie’s and certainly not as privileged as Lydia’s. When Lydia seemed to turn her nose up at that (after all she certainly didn’t feel like it was a privilege constantly standing in the shadow of her mother and what felt like a hundred bodyguards) his tone turned sterner yet. He reminded Lydia of everything that she should be grateful for; she went to the best schools, was able to take private lessons in whatever subject she wanted to learn about, and had everything she could have ever imagined needing. He explained that her mother was just doing her best to make sure everyone had her same opportunities and that her passion for her work made it seem like she was distant, but that her caring for others stemmed from caring for her own family so much. She wanted to leave this world better for her own child, as well as everyone else in the next generation. 

John knew it was selfishness symptomatic of her age that kept young Lydia from accepting the fact that she had to share her mother with the world, so he tried another way. Every day thereafter, while he was in the hospital, he would discuss with Lydia things for which she should be grateful. He explained that if she continued to do as her mother asked and if she held to her part of the agreement, to behave herself and not cause her mother any undue worry or embarrassment from the press, then one day, Lydia would have the skills and the background to be able to just leave it all behind her. One day her mother wouldn’t be running for reelection or currently holding an office position and Lydia would be old enough to support herself, but she needed to make sure that she was planning for her future at the same time. He made her understand that all of the hours she put in now would pay off on the day when she could ask her mother for one thing, to be able to leave the spotlight, to not have to be under scrutiny every second of every day, and to be free of politics and fame, able to support herself in whatever career she could imagine. John intended to make Lydia feel more grateful for the things that she had been given, to understand how hard her mother worked, and to hopefully strengthen their relationship. He wanted Lydia to be happy, but not so spoiled that she couldn’t see the amazing opportunities that had been afforded to her. 

Unfortunately, John would die before he was able to see whether this plan worked, but though it was unknown to him at the time, Lydia made a pact. She could not wait for the day when she would not have to worry about cameras invading her every moment. She didn’t feel grateful at the time; rather she resented the media attention her mother commanded even more. She could barely even grieve without the cameras capturing her every tear and the media speculating about whether or not she had depression, among other so called scandals. She began counting the days until she could leave her mother and never come back, still resentful toward her as ever. Looking back now however, Lydia regretted not imagining doing more things with her father, as if she already had accepted that she would be leaving him behind as well when that fateful day arrived, whether she asked him to come or not – she knew he would never leave Natalie. It was as if she had spent her entire childhood preparing for when she got to say goodbye and it was only after he died that she realized she wasn’t as ready as she thought she would have been at that age. 

Months went by before she could even think about their final talks without breaking down and sobbing until exhaustion overtook her. One day she finally had the courage to go through the box of his personal affects they had been given from the hospital after he died and she found the folded up pieces of notebook paper where he had written all of the things down that she was grateful for on that particular day. At the bottom of one of them was a note that read, “You should never forget where you come from, it propelled you to where you will be in the future.” Reading those words after so much time had passed was like getting hit by a freight train. She remembered her pact and she strengthened her resolve to be able to have a life for herself after her mother’s time in political office. He may have intended for their relationship to become stronger, for her to appreciate that she should be so lucky, but in that moment, Lydia saw her escape from the glare of her mother’s limelight like a light at the end of a dark tunnel. The wait was the hardest part, so she put herself to work creating a checklist. She had perfect grades and attendance throughout middle and high school. Throughout her schooling years, she was well liked by her teachers and her peers, and she adamantly opposed partying and serial dating, seeing them only as distractions and possible fodder for even more media attention. She was captain of her high school’s science quiz bowl team and first seat on the tennis team. She would graduate high school, have her pick of top colleges, and then have her pick of top medical schools. By the time she that she would be beginning her career, her mother would be finishing hers and the timing would be perfect. At first it seemed like an impossible list that would take forever, but she could be patient when she had a goal.

***

In the weeks leading up to finals, Lydia had been making plans with Malia and Kira about how they would celebrate after their white coat ceremony. They had spent what little free time they had between hours of studying to Google beaches close enough that would allow for a short trip; they were desperate to get away for a few days. Each of them had come to Johns Hopkins Medical School from different places and after surviving their first year together they had become inseparable. Malia had been in a car accident when she was younger and had missed a lot of her formal school years. She had worked hard to get her GED, spent two years at a community college and then graduated from a four year college. She had to take a few classes in a Post baccalaureate Premedical Program in order to be prepared enough for JHU, but she was up to the challenge. She wanted to be a trauma specialist, having been inspired by the doctors and nurses that had stood by her during every step of her recovery after her accident. Kira studied at a four year college and spent a year abroad in Japan. She and Malia met while attending the same postbacc program. While volunteering in a children’s hospital in Japan during her year abroad, Kira set her sights on medical school, with a focus in pediatrics. Lydia’s education had all gone according to plan thus far. She had found it difficult in college to make close friends, so she was incredibly happy to be accepted into their little wolf pack, appreciating that they never made a big deal out of her being the President’s daughter. 

She had always been more of an introvert and preferred the solitude that laboratory research offered, so even though she was at medical school she didn’t plan on spending a lot of time with patients. She went to Georgetown for undergrad as a legacy at her mother’s behest so that she could live at home (though Lydia never felt the White House was her home) and decided on Johns Hopkins, only slightly farther away, for medical school where she could simultaneously earn her M.D. and a PhD in epidemiology. She wanted to study infectious diseases like pneumonia. JHU was far enough away that she got to live in her very first apartment away from her mother, though not always far enough. She had been so excited that she had agreed to Friday night dinners with her mother every week, without complaint or hesitation. Besides, she knew her mother would have to cancel half of the time anyway. Not only was her dream of being a medical researcher becoming a reality, but she would have some very much needed physical distance from her mother and all of the mammoth sized presidential baggage that came with her job. 

Being as withdrawn and quiet as she was, all Lydia ever wanted was solitude and today was no exception. She had been looking forward to her white coat ceremony for years; it would be a huge milestone for her on the way to her dream of being a scientist and she didn’t think anything could have ruined it. She had underestimated her mother’s capacity for calling so much attention to every single one of her life’s moments. Lydia felt that just because she was proud of herself and that this was a big moment for her, that didn’t mean it had to be a big moment for the world. She was going to celebrate with Malia and Kira at their favorite bar and they were going to take a long weekend at the beach to relax before they had to start studying for their next round of classes, overall a well-earned, albeit quiet, celebration with zero press. As usual however, the reality of her mother being the President of the United States was not something she could readily escape and the attention that came with the position, not to mention the 24-hour media circus, typically dictated Lydia’s every waking moment. Natalie had promised Lydia that she could have her quiet celebration, no media involved, if Lydia let her come to the ceremony for a quick photo-op. Lydia had agreed to the compromise, she was prepared for that level of attention; it was her picture of normal. Unfortunately five days before, some political fanatic had followed her as she left her last final to go home. It had just gotten dark outside and she was walking back to her apartment with her personal Secret Service Agent, Melissa (she wasn’t sure who else was on her detail since she they tended to blend in to their surroundings so well). A man jumped out from behind a short wall, taking both Lydia and Melissa by surprise, before he managed to throw, and hit Lydia with, a smoking canister, while yelling some activist slogan. The canister had been harmless and the suspect apprehended. Lydia, uninjured, was shaken by the incident and more devastated by the fact that the incident made national news after the activist’s friend filmed it on his phone and uploaded it. Melissa was furious and insisted on doubling down on her security. 

Now, at what was supposed to be the day of her celebration in her accomplishments, the media had made the day all about her “attack” – their words, not hers. Yes, it had surprised, even scared her, but all she wanted to do was to forget about it, unlike everyone else. Operating under the same assumptions the media was using to hype up the incident, the security for the entire event was doubled, all with the intent of protecting the First Family from a possible copycat. The media’s favorite dig at the female POTUS was accusing Natalie of being an absent and neglectful mother. Natalie caved to the media pressure that said allowing her daughter to go off on vacation would be reckless because, clearly only Natalie was capable of protecting her daughter and not the well-trained, armed security guards. Lydia wasn’t even allowed to celebrate at the bar with Malia and Kira, let alone go to the beach; their plans were ruined.  
As Lydia stood in the Oval Office, listening her mother explain the situation to her after the night of her supposed “attack” she let the disappointment wash over her. These kind of broken promises were old hat to Lydia, but that didn’t stop her from being angry, angry with the media for being so blatantly sexist as to question Natalie’s mothering skills, angry with the person that had thrown the canister, and even with her mother for caving so readily to the media’s tactics. Though she knew it wasn’t fair given her mother’s position, nothing could stop the little bubble of resentment sitting in the back of her mind from taking root. 

Lydia soothed herself during the ceremony by reminding herself that her mother would only be President for three more years and, even though her political career would not end, the media’s eyes would be on a new family. She smiled pleasantly at that thought and kept it plastered to her face throughout the ceremony, even allowing herself to get past feeling disappointed and to revel in her accomplishment, just a little bit. Lydia had convinced Malia and Kira to go ahead on their vacation without her, knowing not everyone had expendable cash to throw away, and not wanting them to waste their money. They enjoyed a quiet dinner with her and her mother at the White House and then left from there for their trip. Lydia was driven back to her apartment after the dinner, refusing her mother’s invitation to spend the night in her old room. Sighing as she put her key in the door to her empty apartment, movement at the end of the hall caught her eye. She paused and saw a young man opening his door as well. His head turned toward her as he walked through his door and, not only had she never seen him in her building before, but she could have sworn she had seen him at the ceremony today. Instantly pissed, she pushed her door open and grabbed her cell phone to call her mother; she wasn’t fooled, not for one second. 

***

Jordan had always wanted to serve his country. His parents had both been military and though he doesn’t really remember them, he does remember looking at pictures of them in his grandfather’s lap. They were his heroes then and even in death they continued to serve as role models for him now; he wanted nothing more than to make them proud. He could not think of any higher calling for protecting his country than by protecting the Commander-in-Chief as a member of the United States Secret Service team. He made his checklist of obstacles he would have to conquer before he could reach this goal and he planned to execute his plan as quickly and efficiently as possible. 

His grandfather was an electrical engineer and Jordan had a front row seat to the evolution of the desktop/personal computer. After hours of watching his grandfather and years tooling around on his own, he was able to build his own from the ground up and planned to further hone those skills for his future career endeavors. After he graduated high school, he immediately enlisted in the United States Navy. He worked his way up the chain until he served as an information systems technician for two tours on the USS Bataan (LHD-5), a Wasp-class amphibious assault ship. Specifically, he served as an important part of the Information Dominance Corps in its mission to gain a deep understanding of the inner workings of adversaries and in implementing micro-computer systems throughout the Fleet, when not on tour. Afterwards, he moved to D.C. where he enrolled and graduated from the D.C. police academy after 28 weeks, top of his class. After his 18 month probationary period, he applied to work in a specialized unit and was immediately put to work in the cyber-crimes/information technology unit. He worked in this department for two years before applying to become a Special Officer within the Special Agent Division of the USSS (United States Secret Service). The job required both military and law enforcement experience and after an intensive 8 week training program, he was working in the Joint Operations Center, helping keep the First Family safe under constant surveillance – an extension of the work he did while being an information systems technician in the Navy and working in IT with the Metropolitan Police Department. His job required that he travel with the first family and work in the command center, and to set up command centers at each site the President would be visiting in the future. Travel was an added level of stress and he considered himself lucky that he was more often asked to stay in D.C. than not. Though he had achieved his dreams, working hard for everything that he had ever wanted, he had no one with which to share his life. He was always so focused on his work that he made only a few close friends. Since most of them were scattered throughout the world, either with the Navy or the Secret Service, they were rarely able to catch up and sometimes he felt his job was not keeping him busy enough to remind him just how alone he was. 

Two weeks after his 29th birthday and 16 months into being a Special Officer he was called in to the office, late in the middle of the night, to meet with the director of the USSS. He remembered being terrified, but also baffled. He had received good marks from his immediate supervisors, but nothing that would warrant a comment by the Director and certainly no indication that he had poor job performance, something that would be below the Director discussing anyway. Instead of talking about his job performance, he walked into a meeting on national security. The President’s daughter, known as Bookbag to the agency, had been attacked just hours before by some rabid activist with a smoking canister and the President herself had demanded that her daughter’s detail be tripled. The President had asked for complete discretion, not wanting her daughter to know, since it would make her upset and, though it was unlikely given Bookbag’s recorded stellar history, she might even try to bail on her protection were she to be angry enough with her mother. The Secret Service rarely commented on the personal relationships of their details, so the reasons for increasing protection were inconsequential, but how the added protection was to be doled out was their specialty.

They decided on increasing the number of Secret Service members on campus that looked and acted like regular college students. Jordan was selected for this discreet detail because he looked young enough to still be in college and had the necessary training, both from the military and the police force. He was asked to be on her detail, one of five at any given time, that would live in her building, go to her school, but wouldn’t act or look like an agent, just as a regular civilian, unless of course the situation called for it. His age would make him believable, but his training would make him capable. He had extensive knowledge of the First Family from his time spent in the command center on a daily basis and knew common acquaintances and habits of Bookbag. He would be on her detail for a minimum five hours a day, would undergo intensive training in every waking moment, and was ordered not to go out of his way to avoid her, to even speak with her if necessary – whatever it took to keep her in the dark but protected at all times. He would train for the week until her white coat ceremony, after which he would begin his detail. This wasn’t Jordan’s dream job, but he was being called to serve his country and not only would he answer it, he would dedicate every fiber of his being to doing so. 

They had set him up in the same apartment building as Bookbag, same floor at the end of the hallway, enrolled him in most of her classes for the upcoming semester, and gave him all the necessary information he would need about her routine, the school, and the other agents on her detail. They created a fake persona for him just in case his other classmates became curious; anything to be sure that his cover would not be blown. His surname was changed and all evidence of his previous life could be deleted in a matter of seconds, should that be necessary. His grandparents had already died a few years before and Jordan considered himself lucky for not having a family, so that he could be free to take assignments like this one. His intensive training schedule was only supposed to last a few months beyond the ceremony before he would be able to follow her on a more regular schedule. He hadn’t planned on having anymore contact with her other than a quick nod or hello when they crossed paths, but he quickly found that, when it came to outwitting Lydia Martin, even the best laid plans can fall apart right at the start.

***

Lydia gripped her phone, slamming her finger down on each button with a deliberate and increasing force each time. Moments earlier, she had stormed into her apartment, had thrown her bag down, and let the door shut with a slam. She was not going to accept her mother hiring more people to babysit her and she definitely wasn’t allowing her to do so without her knowledge – as if she was a child who was too fragile to be told the truth. Just as her mother’s phone started ringing, a thought crossed Lydia’s mind and she hung up just in time. If she told her mother that she knew about the added protection, then he’d be replaced with someone else, someone less conspicuous, and throwing a temper tantrum about how it wasn’t fair would just confirm how childish everyone considered her to be anyway. No, instead she would once again do what she always did: put up with it quietly, bide her time, and make the situation work for her on her own terms. 

She texted with Kira and Malia and laughed at the few pictures they had sent her of their drive to the beach. Lydia’s new celebratory plans included spending a few days relaxing by herself, preparing for her summer classes, and quietly getting over her disappointment (with just a touch of envy) in missing the beach trip. In addition to her medical school classes, she was taking two additional courses, a neuroscience and a bio statistics course to keep her on track with finishing her PhD. It would take her longer to actually graduate than Malia or Kira, but she loved doing research, loved working in the lab, and didn’t mind spending hours in the library studying by herself. She was not a politician like her mother in any sense of the word and the methods typically surrounding being a doctor – meeting new patients, discussing prognoses with families – sounded tedious and uninteresting to her. While Lydia enjoyed studying and spending time with close friends such as Malia and Kira, she much preferred solitude and she planned to take advantage of it over the next few days. She tried not to worry about her additional protection when she needed to focus on school. 

She got up early the next morning and ran 4 miles; she did this every morning for which her scheduled allowed and found it was excellent as a way to clear her head. She subtly rolled her eyes when, just as she suspected she would, she saw that same man from the night before, also running a similar path as hers. Agent Reyes was her usual running partner in the morning before Melissa came on official duty. Running through the park meant there were only a handful of routes, not all of them connecting; when she changed direction she shouldn’t have seen him again if he had stayed on his own path. When she came around the loop that would take her back to the entrance she had to bite her lip to keep from openly scoffing, because to see him on her same path, failing to keep his distance and be the least bit inconspicuous, was maddening. She ran all the way home energized, satisfied that she confirmed what she guessed the night before, but still pissed that she had been right – her mother had made decisions about her personal space without her input, once again. 

She showered and grabbed a quick breakfast, before gathering up her computer, a thermos of coffee, and some supplies, shoving them all in her back pack. The library was the only place she could get any work done, free from distraction, and she needed to continue working on her lit review for her dissertation. This time when she saw him the roll of her eyes was a lot less subtle and she glared at the journal paper she was reading – so much for distraction free. She was in the Periodicals Room, the part of the library where it was hard to hide among the many rows of tables with lamps on them and he was easy to spot even if he did try to slide in through a side entrance. She was sitting at her favorite table in a room that was empty save for a few faces, also stuck behind while everyone else enjoyed summer break. His behavior really wasn’t discreet anymore and definitely not befitting of a Secret Service Agent, with whom Lydia had had plenty of experience. No matter how many Johns Hopkins shirts he wore he wasn’t ever going to pass as just another student and it made Lydia laugh to herself when she thought about him trying. He looked like a professional body builder, particularly with regard to how tight across the chest and arms the shirts pulled like they were barely restrained under the thin fabric. Lydia shook her head, realizing she had been staring; she told herself to get a grip and went back to her lit review. 

Focusing on her paper proved fruitless as she found herself glaring at where he was sitting at a table across the room every few minutes. Fewer than twenty-four hours had passed and she was already sick of this guy. She almost felt bad for him since it became clear that he couldn’t even spell the word subtle given that he was always within five feet of her. Stuck between wanting to get rid of him and worrying that the next guy would keep her constantly looking over her shoulder wondering, she decided to see if she could try to scare him into giving her some distance. Lydia’s mother may have hired more security, but Lydia doubted that even she asked for this level of stalking. She figured it would be easy, just give him enough of a hint to nudge him to back off a bit. She wrote a book title and its number on a piece of paper, grabbed her things, and headed for the elevators. When they had arrived at the library that morning, Melissa had gone on her usual rounds, exploring the library while Lydia worked, so Lydia wasn’t too worried about her interfering with her plans. Even so, Lydia still had to make the lie believable in case they ran into one another. She stepped off the elevator on her floor and walked one short loop, looking at the piece of paper in her hand with intent, intertwining between shelves, as if she were actually looking for that particular section and book among the many shelves towering with books. 

Returning back to the wall of elevators, her face contorted in fake-looking confusion, she stopped, looked at the piece of paper again, said, “Oops, wrong floor,” in her most innocent voice, and pushed the down elevator button. If her plan was working then Melissa wouldn’t be any the wiser to her plot. It felt obvious to her, but truth be told, the library was huge and she was always hunting down books throughout the sections in a similar fashion. 

Just like she knew he would be, he was standing on the elevator about to take a step forward to exit when he looked up at Lydia and retracted his foot, first staring at her, eyes widening just a touch, and then looked away. She gave a smug, tight lipped smile and stepped on the elevator beside him.

“Could you press four please?” she said in her honey-sweet voice, swinging her fire red hair over her shoulder, just brushing by his shoulder. He pressed the button without comment and without so much as a glance toward her, looking at his feet. When the elevator stopped and she moved to push through the slow moving doors, she looked back and raising her eyebrows she said, “Are you lost or are you just riding the elevators for fun?” She wasn’t quite sure what made her do it. This was as far as her plan had gotten in her head – throw herself into his personal space, let him feel what it’s like, and then back off with the hope that he would get the hint and give her some distance himself, without her having to ask for it outright. Maybe it was the fact that he really did look like a lost puppy or the fact that he smelled amazing, or that his eyes were so damn green, or that damn his arms really did look good in that shirt, but Lydia had asked the question and now she really did want an answer. 

He looked startled at first, but immediately recovered and actually gave a nervous laugh and shook his head. “I’m not lost exactly, just new and looking around. It might be easier if I had a proper tour since this place is so big, but I figure I’ll get to know it well.” If he had started the sentence nervous, he sure as hell finished it with confidant nonchalance. He had looked up from his feet, straight into her eyes and gave her an adorable lopsided grin. It was a brazen remark and now she found herself the startled one, but she had enough practice not to let that show. He was practically begging her for the tour and for someone who is supposed to be keeping a low profile it made zero sense, unless he was trying to seem unfazed, like he could see right through her plan. 

Did he know that she knew? she wondered to herself. He was already pressing the button for a different floor, giving her a small shrug, when she threw her arm out to stop the doors from closing – again she could have let him go, but she felt the challenge he threw at her and she would call his bluff. 

“I could give you a tour. I know this place better than my own house.” She tilted her head on the word house, pursed her lips, and cocked her eyebrow invitingly. After a beat, she turned and started to walk away, smiling to herself, but refusing to look to see if he allowed the elevator doors close between them should he decline. He caught up to her in three fast steps.  
“That’d be great. Like I said I’m new and I would definitely appreciate having a guide, even someone who could just throw some tips my way on how to survive this school,” he said it in earnest, a bigger smile on his face and she couldn’t help but give him a little grin and nod in confirmation. She snapped her head forward and began walking, shaking her head slightly at this bizarre turn of events. 

“Well, I’m Lydia and I have been here for a year so I really know my way around, since I pretty much live here during the school year. We’ll start on my favorite floor of the library, actually.” She walked them down a long narrow hall with windows on either side looking into small group study rooms. “I’m a dual M.D./PhD. student with a focus on neuroscience. I like this part of the library because once you get past the study rooms it’s just an open space with an odd array of furniture and not a lot of people bother me here. There just aren’t a lot of distractions from other people during the breaks between school sessions and it is still on the same floor as the help desk. So when I need help hunting down a specific journal article, book, etc., I don’t have to go very far.” Lydia had shown him into a square room, a door to a stairwell on one end and an assortment of chairs, tables, a couch, a couple of carrels, and a massive rug underneath the couch, in a room that wasn’t much bigger than half of a small gymnasium, with high ceilings. “I really only come here during breaks, when it’s empty. During regular sessions, I study in the Periodicals Room.” Lydia had already started to turn toward him to leave.

“Wow, this is really great. I really appreciate this.” He held her gaze just a moment before turning with her and walking down the hall in step with her. “I’m Jordan by the way. I’m in the graduate program for medical science and I also am focusing on neuroscience, but I’m just an incoming first year Master’s student.” He couldn’t help himself from looking over at her, with this stupid grin on his face, like he really thought he had her believing that he was a student who needed the tour.

“It’s really no problem. And don’t worry, the classes here are so interesting and taught so well that for me, at least, it’s been no trouble settling in. So what’s your focus again?” Lydia was keeping it professional and casual, trying her best not to get lost in those gorgeous eyes and perfect teeth.

“I’m working on getting my Master’s degree for now, and writing my thesis on cellular developmental stages of memory growth in senior level athletes.” Jordan had practiced this line many times, barely even knowing what it meant, but it was good enough for his cover. All of the professors knew that he was just auditing classes and because the President’s daughter was in his same classes, they were forbidden to share student information with anyone. Thus, none of his classmates would know that he was just auditing and he could get away with failing every class, just so long as it looked to everyone else like he was trying. 

“Oh, so what lab are you working in?” Lydia asked this and hit the elevator button. Melissa was nowhere. She knew how to disappear completely when Lydia was with friends, but that was because she knew them. Melissa disappearing completely when she was with a stranger was unusual, unless she had already pegged him as a non-threat. Lydia was sure that Jordan was an undercover agent, so Melissa’s disappearance only helped strengthen that knowledge. She felt the sudden need to end this before she looked like a total fool to her entire detail.

“My advisor is Dr. Morris, but I’m not doing any lab work, only paper research. What about you, what lab are your working with?” He stood there looking at her with his hands in his pockets while they waited for the elevator to take them to another part of the library.

The elevator doors opened and as they got into the elevator Lydia said causally, “First we will stop by the main desk so that you can orient yourself, and then we will head back up to the Periodicals.”

“Yeah, sure. The Periodicals Room is probably the only place I actually know anyway.” Jordan shook his head and shrugged one shoulder, letting her get on and off the elevator first.

“I’m working in the Hammond Lab and my dissertation right now could be on several different projects, but we are waiting for a few grants to come in before we begin to narrow our focus. Personally, I’m hoping we get the grant that would allow us to study brain matter changes linked to head trauma.” She said it in her usual business-like attitude, pursing her lips, but being this close to him, looking into his beautiful, green eyes that looked so expectant and innocent, she began to feel a little frightened. She was afraid she had bitten off more than she could chew. She had gone way past her original plan and, ironically, this was not getting her any closer to her original goal of distance, but she didn’t know how to back out now. She thought that he would see through her façade immediately, be embarrassed that he had been caught, and make an effort be less obvious in the future. She didn’t know that he would even be allowed to engage with her at all. For just a moment she doubted herself, but she knew she wasn’t wrong about him. It was way too coincidental that he just happened to be everywhere she was. Melissa still hadn’t stepped in so he wasn’t giving off any creepy stalker vibes either – Melissa had a sixth sense about these things and Lydia trusted her judgement. Melissa’s quick action had kept the man who had thrown the smoking canister from getting any closer to her or distracting her from getting Lydia to safety. As they got off on the first floor she had the chance to look at him up close. She couldn’t help but notice how his arms were all muscle and how much taller he was too, but every time she looked over at him she was rewarded with seeing his eyes sparkle at her. 

She took him over to the front desk and showed him the detailed map that they had posted and the listing of every section and its location in the library. She also showed him where to print and do photocopies, as well as the computer help desk and lab. Then they headed back up the elevator to the Periodicals Room. As they walked, she pointed out her favorite nooks and crannies she used to study in whenever her usual spots were too loud or crowded. She asked him more about himself and he told her that he had always lived in DC, and had done his undergraduate studies at George Washington University. She told him she was raised in California, but had lived in DC for the past five years after her mother had moved them there. Jordan didn’t mention that he recognized her or her name at all (though she didn’t mention her mother’s name and Martin is fairly common) and Lydia had to do everything she could not to let the utter disbelief show on her face. On top of a total lack of inconspicuousness, his second big mistake was completely acting like absolutely nothing was going on to the point that he even denied recognizing her as the President’s daughter and it bordered on silly in her opinion. 

They had been standing outside of the Periodicals Room talking when she again felt the resolve of ending this. His eyes, his smile, his general good-natured attitude had kept her procrastinating, but the nagging voice in the back of head telling her it was all a lie, kept her resolute. “So this is the Periodicals Room and it is deadly silent in there. I have a lot of work to do that I should really get back to, but it was nice meeting you.” Lydia actually even held out her hand for him to shake, intent on being a professional until the end. 

“I’m not surprised to hear how busy you are, especially with all of the research you are doing, and I really appreciated your help today.” He started to step away, but put his foot down again. “Actually, I would love to see you again. Do you think I could have your number? It would be helpful to know someone else here while I still get to know this campus.” He raised his eyebrows innocently and let go of her hand.

Who the hell was this guy?! Lydia couldn’t help but think to herself. How was any of this ok with his superiors? She didn’t let any shock on her face show, but she just smiled and said, “Of course. I’d love to see you sometime again too.” She used the same piece of paper from before and felt flustered as she wrote it down, wondering if this was his way of continuing to call her bluff. She didn’t really expect a call from him, but she also felt herself preen at his flirtation when asking. This was an experience completely foreign to her. Rarely did she even meet guys at random who, after recognizing her either ran for the hills or thought getting with the President’s daughter would be great for a laugh and a story. She definitely never just handed her number out to people she just met. With Melissa nowhere to be seen, just for a moment, it felt like for the first time in her life, she was just another person living her ordinary life. It wasn’t until he thanked her and turned to walk toward the elevator that her face fell. This wasn’t normal and they weren’t just two strangers running into each other. This man was her mother’s hired gun and none of this was as real as she wanted it to feel. He looked back and nodded to her once more with a small grin before getting on the elevator and she walked into the quiet Periodicals Room. She felt like she was waking up from a delightful dream and would have done anything to be able to claw back to that weightless, giddy feeling. 

*** 

Jordan walked out of the library, pulling out his phone to call headquarters to officially end his shift, when he was interrupted by two agents appearing beside him beside him. Jordan pocketed his cell and walked with them, away from the library. They were approached by a black, unmarked SUV and Jordan was shoved into the backseat with what he thought was an unnecessary amount of force. Derek Hale, head of Lydia Martin’s Security Detail was sitting in the back of the SUV looking venomous. The man had a permanent frown on his face, but today it had the addition of a piercing glare that Jordan could not mistake for anything but pure loathing. 

“Agent Parrish.” Agent Hale said it like an insult and Jordan struggled not to whither under the glare. He’d gone too far with Lydia and he knew it. The best he could hope for now would be getting fired from the agency, but without a dishonorable discharge on his record. He had tried to think of a reason for why he had taken it that far since leaving Lydia, but he hadn’t even been able to explain it to himself. The past few days had been incredibly hectic for him. He was thrown into a completely new situation and was trying to learn as much as he could as quickly as he could. He felt so lost in this new environment that he felt he had no choice, but to keep Lydia as close as possible until he learned his way around better. He hadn’t yet felt as completely disoriented as he had just now in the library, however. One minute he was trying to follow her, feeling lost in a building in which he had only ever seen through blueprints and in the next, he was staring into the most beautiful green eyes he had ever seen. He had seen Lydia before, part of his job was monitoring the First Family after all, but he had never been this close to her. Every time he had seen her on video during large events, being shuffled from hotel to bus and back again on security cameras in and around hotels and other public places, he had been focused on watching everyone else in the vicinity and been less focused on her specifically. When he was right next to her listening to her talk about herself, giving him that tour, it was the first time that he was focusing on Lydia as a person, not just an entity to be protected. He had even stopped referring to her by codename in his head he didn’t think that he would be able to shake that memory of meeting her on the elevator anytime soon. He had been afraid at first that he had been made, that she had seen right through his cover and that she was about to tell him off for being so conspicuous. He didn’t want to reveal himself prematurely though and he wasn’t about to lose everything he had worked for so easily; so he hesitated, just for a moment, before calling her bluff and putting on a mask of casual confidence. 

When she looked back at him and offered to be his tour guide, her tone was unmistakably a challenge, like she wanted to see if he would actually accept. He didn’t know, however, if she meant it as a challenge because he, as an Agent should absolutely not accept, or as a stranger who might be intimidated by who she was. He had heard from other Agents about guys either trying way too hard or just running away because of who her mother was, so his first inclination was to just play nice and deny everything. It quickly became obvious that that idea was borderline silly when she was talking about herself and mentioned moving to D.C., but he shrugged it off and stuck to denial. He felt like an idiot, but at least he was learning about the library and about her. Her file could tell him what her research was in and who her advisor was, but it could not tell him how much she loved what she was studying or why she liked certain parts of the library. 

As they walked around and talked about classes and their research (she talked more than he did to which he was thankful because he only had so many memorized lines to use) the atmosphere between them shifted. When she was looking at him, nothing else mattered and it was easy to forget that he was supposed to be playing someone else. He wanted to know more about her; if he was fired, so be it. At least he got to spend a few fleeting minutes with someone who saw him as a person, not just another number, or soldier, or employee. It occurred to him that this might be because she already knew who he was, but he couldn’t be sure and anyway, she didn’t seem perturbed or annoyed by his presence, suggesting that if she did know, then she was denying it too. He could actually pretend, that just for a moment, he was spending a normal day in the presence of a fascinating and very smart classmate. He couldn’t get enough of her smile, which was probably what ultimately made him ask for her number. Once he had decided to follow her lead and act like they were both total strangers then it made sense to commit all the way; asking for her number just felt natural. His thoughts of her were impeded upon by Agent Hale’s stern voice, a quiet and deadly expression of warning. 

“Are you aware of the shit storm you have caused? Because let me be clear with you if you aren’t. I wanted to fire you from the agency, dishonorably discharge you from the military, and take you out back and beat the shit out of you until you begged me to stop. Do you understand me? I am not your advocate; I am not on your side. Shit! What the hell were you thinking?!” Agent Hale’s shouting grew louder and more aggressive with every word and Jordan felt his heart pounding in his chest. He didn’t doubt that Agent Hale had been adamant for his immediate removal and all he could do was stare straight ahead and await his ultimate punishment. 

“Unfortunately, it isn’t up to me. Agent McCall first contacted the President the moment you decided to take Bookbag up on her offer to give your pathetic ass a tour of the damn library. Did it ever even occur to you that she would recognize you?” Jordan clenched his jaw at the mention of his biggest fear. Lydia was smart; of course it was possible for her to deduce that he was an agent. He hadn’t seen Melissa, but he knew she wouldn’t have been far from Lydia. Would she and Lydia discuss recognizing him? Would they laugh as they told his superior officers how he had acted like a reckless fool, disgracing the agency? 

Agent Hale continued his tirade, “Agent McCall was asked by the President to keep her distance, putting her concerns for her daughter’s ignorance over all common sense. I was ready to go in there myself and drag you out behind me by your fucking ankles. You have her to thank by the way. She let President Martin know after you two met that she felt the situation should play out a little longer, spouting some bullshit about how Bookbag didn’t seem to mind you and how it might be nice to have another set of eyes on Bookbag and whatever the hell else it was that saved your worthless and pathetic ass. So listen up. You are to continue your friendship with Lydia, but absolutely no more than that. You are in no way to encourage the friendship beyond casual acquaintances and your job is no longer to give us a daily reports about her activities. You will report confirmation of her location, which we should already know, when you meet with her and when you leave her physical location. You are not there to spy on her; you will not give us an update on her personal life, though you are still there as added protection. You will check in four times a day on your phone, change headquarters contacts to read ‘Brother.’ You will continue on your original schedule and will only deviate when you plan on spending time with Lydia. You will keep a professional relationship and the moment you even think that she may know who you are you are to alert me directly – per order of the President. Agent McCall will continue to be her main agent and you are a guest in her space when you are with Bookbag, so whatever she says is whatever goes. Do you understand me Agent Parrish?”

“Yes sir.” Jordan answered Agent Hale with a curt and professional response. His heart was in his throat; he could hardly believe what he was hearing. He wanted to scream with relief and he wanted to hug Melissa for saving his ass. The car screeched to a halt after Agent Hale gave the order Agent Boyd. Jordan exited the vehicle, taking his new file with him that included extended directives for how he should proceed going forward. Before the vehicle could speed away again, Agent Hale looked at him and said, “Don’t let me down Parrish. Don’t give me a reason to come back here and fire your pathetic ass.”

Jordan jogged all the way back to his apartment building; he had a lot of work to do in order to take on this new role. When he got there, everything that made his apartment a mini command center – the computers, laptops, routers, surveillance equipment – had all been removed. It would no longer have Agents coming and going, it was his space and he had to make it look like a typical grad student’s apartment. Everything else, including the file with the new directives, was hidden in a locked box under the floorboards in his closet. He then started making lists of things he would need to purchase to make the apartment look less like a military bunker. It was an hour after the conversation in the car before he was breathing slower, chest no longer heaving with determination, and his shoulders relaxed from the tension. He couldn’t believe how stupid he was to have gotten so close to Lydia that he had put his career and everything that he had ever worked for on the line. He had worried she had noticed him the night before when they both arrived at the respective doors, but if she had, she hadn’t given any indication. He felt like the stupid rookie he was, as if all of his training had been for naught. 

He needed to learn her schedule and was feeling the pressure even more so, given the look on Agent Hale’s face just before he shut the car door, to do so as soon as possible; he was on the steepest learning curve of his life – one that required him to learn the ins and outs of becoming an agent worthy of the First Family’s Protection Unit in a matter of weeks. His schedule had been to learn Lydia’s schedule by day, train and/or work out by night. Now he was expected to keep his schedule of going to classes, pretending to be a student, while not attracting too much attention and his training would be almost entirely scrapped. He would no longer be meeting up with other Agents and would only be confirming location whereabouts four times a day in addition to when he was contacted and questioned first by the Agency should they need it. He would be completely out of the loop in every way that dealt with security and long term planning; he was expected to rely on the training from the military and police postings he had held prior to this job. While he would be privy to Lydia’s private life, the expectation that her privacy be respected and that he wasn’t expected to spy on her kept his guilt at bay. He really hadn’t meant for it to go this far and he didn’t expect it to go further. He was a professional and he could keep up the façade that the Agency had created for him. 

The lines between caring about Lydia’s safety for the sake of keeping his job and caring about her safety enough to make him want to see her again soon, however, were more easily blurred than he would have like to admit. No matter how many times he started to think about how much of an idiot he was to get himself in this position, or how many times he felt gratitude for not being killed in that SUV by Agent Hale, every thought ended up back on Lydia. In a very short amount of time, most of which was spent walking around the library, occasionally smiling at each other, she had made him laugh, made a genuine effort to make him feel at comfortable, and now she captivated his every thought. She didn’t seem like the privileged princess that the media liked to pretend that she was. She was passionate about school and loyal to her friends. He had to get to know her more. He pulled out her number, dinner would be too soon – he had a lot of work left to do, but a late brunch might just be perfect. As an agent, he was taught to keep his emotions in check at all times, to be on constant lookout for the type of person capable of causing harm to his protectee, but there was no conscientious effort to check the smile that spread across his face as he put her number in his phone. He didn’t care at all if he was following proper dating etiquette in how long to wait before texting; he just wanted to see her again. 

He spent literally twenty minutes figuring out what to text her, agonizing over what would make him sound casual and like any other grad student she might know. How had he spent two tours on active duty oversees and yet still feel knots and butterflies in his stomach like he was some teenager sending a text to a long-held crush? Ok, so maybe this was less unrequited love and more the daughter of the President, a president that expected his discretion to fool her own daughter and maybe his biggest barrier to pretending to be a graduate student was the fact that he had never been a graduate student, nor did he have friends that were. But he had been a student many times before and he had friends that he really only could talk with via text and he was only slightly older than Lydia. He could do this. Eventually he simply texted, “Hey Lydia, this is Jordan Parrish. It was great meeting you today. Thanks for the tour.”

***

Lydia openly balked at her phone. She couldn’t believe he had actually texted her. She honestly thought she would never see him again. She had even felt a little guilty after watching him leave, afraid that she might have contributed to him getting fired. Not too guilty though, he clearly needed a lesson in hiding in plain site; he could have walked away at any time. Still, she found that she had enjoyed his company, even found the casual encounter refreshing in its normalcy. She hesitated at the thought that she might be disappointed in not seeing him again, but seeing him text her so casually was a total surprise. Even if he stayed on her detail she would never have guessed that he would be allowed to continue pretending he was just another student or to reach out to her like this. Did her mother know? Was she the one who told him to continue? That thought almost made Lydia’s blood boil. Lying to her about increasing her security detail was one thing, but planting a spy into her deeply personal life was a new low. Still though, telling her mother off would only cause Jordan to be replaced with someone else, someone much more capable, who might blend in so seamlessly that she would never know. This way she could still control what her mother knew and didn’t know. Besides, that wasn’t fair to Jordan, who honestly seemed like a nice guy, though maybe that was part of his act. Weighing her options, she decided that it was better to keep the devil she knew rather than replace him. She had dealt with worse when it came to her mother and she could grin and bear this too. She put her phone away, determined to get more work done and didn’t text him until hours later, when she left to grab dinner. 

“Hey Jordan! Great meeting you too. Showing you the library was my pleasure.” She had wanted to be short and to the point, but the flirty, last sentence addition just felt so right. If he wanted to carry on a conversation and keep talking, well she was open to it. She wanted to stay in charge of this situation if she was going to safeguard what got back to her mother. Five minutes later, her phone was buzzing in her pocket and she couldn’t help the smile spreading across her face. 

“How’d working in the library go?”

“Actually, pretty well. You get lost anywhere while exploring campus?” It was an innocent question. He had looked so adorable when he was lost in that gigantic library and she shook her head when she thought of him lost on campus.

“Ha ha. No actually, I just played it safe by spending all of my money at Target buying stuff for my apartment. Speaking of lost on campus, though, do you know anywhere I can get a great cup of black Americano coffee? I’m quite the coffee snob.”

“What? You mean you weren’t inspired by my excellent tour of the library to dive into the rest of campus? I get it though; I’ve spent a fair share of money at Target too. Also, the best coffee in town is at Elmo’s. No competition.”

“Well, no. No tour of campus would be complete, or even at all acceptable, without JHU’s number one tour guide. Why don’t we meet again tomorrow? We can start at Elmo’s for brunch.” This text immediately gave her pause. She ran her hands through her hair and gave it an honest thought. Part of her felt like everyone was laughing at her, like “look at this idiot not even realizing that she is texting a man her mother planted right in front of her.” Another part was thinking about how the joke was on them. This guy was hot, seemed incredibly nice, was guaranteed safe since he is literally a USSS agent, and made her feel normal – something that was a rare occurrence and something she really only felt when she was with close friends. It was like she could skip all of the weird parts where new acquaintances panic at the site of field agents and just move past it. She didn’t have to worry about background checks and NDA paperwork. This guy would have to be a perfect gentleman and she wouldn’t have to worry about him gossiping to the tabloids. She squared her shoulders, you know what? Fuck it, she thought to herself. This guy is nice and if this is what normal dating feels like then bring it the fuck on. Besides, he knows what he is getting into; she would push every boundary he had and if he got fired that was on him. She didn’t ask for him to text her and if her mother told her to back off, then she’d be able to throw it right back at her, maybe buy her a few favors. She’d have the last laugh if it ever came down to it.

***

Jordan remembered how his heart was pounding while he waited for her final reply, pacing across his room, doing anything to keep busy. Thinking he’d gone too far or too soon or a combination of the two, he was antsy at best. Even after her response he didn’t stop feeling an anxiety that was more akin to dread than excitement, until he saw her walk in the door to Elmo’s. She had texted back a positive response and agreed to meet him there at 10:30 am. When she walked through the door looking fantastic as usual he felt his heart jump in his throat. She saw him, removed her sunglasses, and smiled. He stood up to greet her, feeling like an awkward teenager, not knowing what to do with his own hands. He’d never felt this unsure of himself in his life, but he couldn’t help himself from grinning right back at her.

“Lydia, hey, it’s great to see you again.” He was doing his best to cover his nervousness in politeness and he stood while she joined him at his booth.

“Hey Jordan, glad to see that you could find your way here.” She kind of rolled her eyes and smiled at the jibe, but it didn’t make him feel at all insecure, he found himself laughing along, feeling lighter by the second. 

“Ha! Yeah, I found it. I just followed the smell of coffee.” Lydia mirrored his smile and he was trying not to be dazzled by it. “I’m surprised this place isn’t more crowded.”

“Yeah, the trick is getting here before eleven, just when business really starts to pick up.” Lydia said this while watching the waitress walk over to them. 

“Can I get you two something to drink?”

“Yes please, could we both have a cup of Americano black and two ice waters? Thank you.” The waitress nodded and left with their drink order. Lydia looked over at him and said, “They do have the best that I’ve found in the area, so you’ll thank me.” 

“I have no complaints so far.” Jordan said it with a casual shrug. He picked up the menu, “I would ask you what is good to eat here, but I feel like first I have to get something off my chest.” He didn’t mean for it to come sounding so serious, but pretending to be just an everyday Joe was proving stressful.

Lydia looked up, squinting her eyes in a suspicious way before saying, “Well, if you were asking then I would tell you that any of their three special sandwiches are the best things to eat for any meal anywhere in the world, but since you’re not, what’s on your mind?” She pursed her lips when she finished.

“So I tried looking you up to find your Facebook and I’m an idiot. I don’t think I put two and two together until that point. Obviously now I realize that you’re President’s daughter and I thought it would be worse if I continued to seem like I didn’t know. I don’t want you to think that I am lying or being weird about it. Also, it doesn’t bother me I guess” he finished in a rush. To his great relief, though, Lydia started to give a little chuckle, shoulders shaking up and down and her tight-lipped smile actually showing some teeth.

“Wow, this is the longest anyone has gone without mentioning it, congratulations, I feel like there should be some award.” She genuinely sounded amused. 

“Wait, you’re not mad? I don’t want you to think that I was trying to pretend you’re are someone you aren’t, but don’t worry I’m not afraid of the thirty Secret Service Agents probably standing outside the restaurant waiting to take me out should I make the wrong move.” He was laughing as he said it, hoping he came off casual and flippant. 

“Nope sorry, no thirty agents anywhere. Just Melissa or Agent McCall to you.” She thrust her head back toward the opposite corner, by the window. Jordan had known Melissa for years and thought his hardest obstacle yet would be remembering to call her Agent McCall. 

“You mean that terrifying woman wearing the black jacket, looking like she could kill a man with her glare, sitting at a table alone?” Jordan hadn’t needed to actually look to know where she was, but he did so while managing to fake nervousness. 

Lydia thought so too as she laughed and said, “Yeah, that’s her. And don’t joke, she can actually kill a man with her glare; I’ve seen it.” Lydia couldn’t believe how casual she sounded. 

“I don’t doubt you for a second. So, what’s that like? Being the President’s daughter, it must be kind of cool to be that close to the Leader of the Free World.” Jordan figured no questions would look more suspicious. The waitress came back over with their coffee and took their order, Jordan picking a sandwich at random. 

“Honestly, I don’t really spend a lot of time at the White House these days. Also, my mom’s always been in politics, like since I was born, so it’s so old hat to me that I don’t think I appreciate it as much as an outsider might.” Jordan nodded his head, but she continued. “I mean, don’t get me wrong I appreciate the opportunities it has afforded me and I definitely don’t take it for granted. I mean the press attention alone is enough to make anyone loath the position. You know what? Actually, let’s just stop talking about it. Sorry, but it’s kind of a sore topic right now.” Lydia had been avoiding eye contact until that last topic when she looked at him over her coffee cup.

“Yeah, no I’m sorry to bring it up at all. I just wanted to put it out there and we can move past it. I mean I can’t even imagine how annoying the press can be.” He also took a sip of his coffee and, Lydia was right, it was the best cup he had ever had. 

“When I’m on campus, the media attention is basically zero since they aren’t allowed on campus. But otherwise, the biggest obstacle is the press off campus. I’m supposed to be on vacation with my friends before the first summer session of classes start, but I couldn’t go because I’m hot with the press right now, so I’m stuck here. I should warn you now, though that the media will speculate all about us. I sat us far away from the window to hopefully give us some privacy, but I literally never know when a pap is just waiting to take my photo, even if they aren’t supposed to follow me around.”

“I’m sorry you aren’t with your friends; I don’t envy that kind of pressure and I certainly don’t want it for myself. We’re just two friends and I don’t plan on running to tell them you’re every secret.” He smiled as Lydia laughed at his dismissive, joking comments.

“Ha! I’m glad I met you then! But I am missing the beach right now. Also, you could get a pretty good price for my secrets, you know, just so you know what you’re getting into. I mean people come up to me all the time asking for my autograph. You have to be prepared.”

“Yeah, I actually know a little something about that kind of fame.” He sighed as he said it, like he was remembering something from a long ago past.

"Yeah?” Lydia asked skeptically, raising her eyebrows.

“Oh yeah, I was Montrose Elementary School’s speller of the year, four years in a row and won the State Spelling Bee for my age group. So I know a little bit about the media hounding you for every minute detail of your life, adoring fans begging for autographs, and people willing to pay for every secret. Honestly, I’m surprised you didn’t recognize me; I’m kind of a big deal.” He smacked his lips on the last word, puffing his chest with mock, pompous confidence.

Lydia was laughing, shoulders visibly shaking, “You know now that you mention it, I can’t believe I didn’t see the resemblance before, I guess puberty really does do wonders!” They both laughed at that comment. He was relieved to see that he could make her feel more relaxed and could move on from the media attention topic quickly. The topic of her being a celebrity didn’t come up again until after their meal. Instead she told him professors to avoid and her favorite classes so far. He loved listening to her talk about her research and her lab mates; it was so clear that she loved her time at JHU thus far. 

After lunch, they headed out of the restaurant together Jordan paying for them both. “So you still want me to take you on that tour?” Lydia asked him, eyebrows raised, inviting him.

“You’re not worried about the press seeing us and spreading every rumor imaginable?” Jordan asked, wanting more than anything to continue spending more time with her. 

“Nope. No press on campus, so we are free to walk around in broad daylight. I do have to get back to my apartment by three, but we can cover a lot of ground before then.” She gave him a closed-lipped smile, one that was quickly becoming his favorite, and he agreed without hesitation. 

They walked around campus, her showing him where exams take place, the athletic fields, and her favorite classrooms. Jordan enjoyed her carefree and energetic manner. Her attitude was bright, like she was a ray of sunlight; Melissa was right, she was happy. It was infectious, making him bask in her warmth and also feel incredibly happy. He also had no idea that she felt so passionately about her work. She usually kept to herself and any reports he had ever been privy to were strictly professional, discussing only contacts and whereabouts, mainly about her school and work schedule, rarely about a social life or plans she had beyond traveling with the President and/or her close friends. He was struck by how differently he was seeing her now. He had always known the First Family as an entity, the objects of which his work surrounded, caring more about the security in each new location more than their feelings or opinions on their own convenience. He never ever wanted to look at Lydia that way again. 

***

When Malia and Kira got back from the beach a few days later, Lydia was looking forward to hearing about their trip, but more excited to tell them about Jordan. She made them swear that after they put away all of their luggage, they would come over to her apartment. When they finally got to her door, there was a lot of yelling and hugging; she was so excited to have them back. She had met up with Jordan only one time after their brunch and other than that she had been getting ready for her classes and working on her lit review. She was in desperate need of time with her girls, when she could really relax. 

They regaled her with some of their funnier stories about dodging boys in bars and getting attacked by a flock of seagulls. Lydia laughed along, finding that she felt a lot less envious than she might have on any other occasion. She genuinely wanted to hear about everything they did, especially going to clubs late at night, something that isn’t always possible for her to do with them, even with a heavy security detail. 

After their tales of their beach vacation, Malia turned on her. “Ok, girl spill it!”

“What do you mean?” Lydia was taken aback at the abruptness and looked between Malia and Kira. Kira folded her arms across her chest and raised her eyebrows. 

“Lydia. It’s obvious, something is different! You look great, happy even. I mean I know you missed us, but we were only gone for a few days so I figured you wouldn’t be depressed or anything! Also, you texted us back very little, like someone or something else was taking up all of your attention! What’s going on? Did you finally get a grant approval or something?”

Lydia sighed; they knew her so well. “Ok, I met a boy.” Both Malia and Kira looked at her with excited bewilderment, Kira’s jaw dropping. “Before you all hound me, I promise to tell you everything, but first I want to order pizza and look at your pictures while we wait for it to get here. Deal?” Malia looked at Kira and they both started laughing – classic Lydia to begin negotiating a deal twenty minutes into seeing them. 

“Ok, but you can’t leave anything out and also, you’re paying for the pizza. You know what I like.” Lydia laughed at Malia’s quip. Malia was all about the meat lover’s pizza and Lydia knew she would glare at the veggie pizza option she was also ordering. 

Two hours later, after they had gone through all of the pictures and eaten the best pizza in D.C., they opened their second bottle of wine and began digesting Lydia’s tenuous relationship with Jordan.

Kira sighed after hearing Lydia’s description and said, “Ok, so let me get this straight. You know he works for the Secret Service and was put on your detail by your mother. You know that he was trying to keep his head down, failed miserably, and then initiated a texting conversation with you, all while you were thinking that he would possibly be fired for getting so close to you. You’re sure he is actually an agent?”

“Definitely. Not only was he so obvious, but Melissa never even interrupted us or patted him down or anything at all! I mean you all remember when we got close right? They did a sweep through your apartment, put surveillance cameras in the hallway, she did none of that. Also, he is totally built. I mean his muscles make him look huge – there’s no way that he is just a regular student.” 

Kira piped up that she wanted to see pictures of him, but Malia cut her off, saying, “If you know he’s Secret Service, then what the hell are you doing with him?”

“At first, I really didn’t know what I was doing. I was trying to help him out, and help myself, by subtly warning him to back off, but then, for whatever reason, I just didn’t keep pushing him away. We’ve seen each other three times so far and I really like him. It feels so normal, like how you all date. I feel safe, every time we go out. I know he isn’t just dating me for the story or because he thinks it will make him look better. I’m careful about what I say around him, but not in the same way I am with other guys; it’s like everyone already trusts him, so it’s less stress for me.”

Malia cut in again, “Whoa, whoa, whoa. You’re telling me that now you are thinking about dating him? Like it isn’t weird that he’s a plant by your mother and/or the agency? I mean, can it ever feel real for you? How far does this go Lydia?”

“Malia, I don’t want to marry the guy, I just enjoy spending time with him.” Lydia shook her head and shrugged her shoulders. “He’s funny and I actually think that he might be into me too. The last time I dated seriously was Jackson in high school and he was an asshole. I don’t want to make that mistake again, but I didn’t want to not date again, but while my mother is still the President, it’s hard. I think this is good because I can trust him not to go to the press and to not freak out by any media attention. I won’t feel any stress in keeping him around, because his job already keeps him in close proximity, so when I need to spend a week locked in the library I can do that without worrying about never seeing him again or him losing interest in me. I really don’t see a huge downside here.”

“I think Malia, and also myself to some extent, is just worried about you. We don’t want to see you get hurt when he is pulled off your detail and you never see him again. I think you would also feel bad about getting him in trouble or even fired if the agency was to find out or something like that.” Kira’s eyes showed genuine concern and Lydia couldn’t begin to tell her how much it meant to her. 

“Thank you, really, but I think knowing in advance that he really is an agent will help keep me grounded. Also, I’m not getting him fired. If he needs to set boundaries, that’s on him. My mother and everyone at the agency just think I’m some clueless girl, so, honestly, it’s on all of them. Right now, I’m just having a really good time and we’ll see where it goes.” She gave a casual half shrug and took a sip of wine, but her heart skipped a beat at thinking about a future with him.

“Wouldn’t it be easier to just tell him?”

“I thought about that, but honestly, I think that would end it. I think he would tell his superiors and we would just be over. I also kind of like keeping this secret; it makes it seem more fair. He has his secret, his identity, and I have mine, the fact that I know. It puts us on equal footing.” Lydia pursed her lips after she said it. It felt so good to finally say it all out loud, like she was finally admitting that the situation was real and that she was choosing to jump in, feet first, but she was concerned that their secrets might not be of equal significance.

“Ok, but seriously, pictures?” interjected Kira. She already had her phone out, ready to start googling him if she needed to, getting impatient with Lydia.

Malia laughed but snuggled up with Lydia and Kira on the couch. “I trust you know what you’re doing and if you need wing women, we are there 100%. I’m on your side, hot body be dammed.”

Lydia, with Kira and Malia on either side of her, looked Jordan up on Facebook, officially friending him and going through the photos she could currently see of him. Kira gushed about his gorgeous eyes and Malia almost took back her hot body be dammed comment. “Ok, he’s way hotter than I realized. Now I definitely don’t question your motives Lydia.” She laughed as she said it, knowing Lydia would never be so vain, but conceding that his eyes were hard to ignore. They yelled when, minutes later, he accepted her friend request. 

Lydia let them crash at her place that night. They all snuggled up together in Lydia’s king sized bed and laughed until they fell asleep talking about bad date stories and even worse romance movies. Lydia hadn’t felt this good in a long time. She had sped through her college years trying to get perfect grades so that she could get into JHU and hadn’t spent much time on a social life. She was so grateful that not only did she get into her number one choice of schools, but that she also made two amazing friends who supported her, no matter how much baggage she carried. 

***

Jordan decided to take Lydia to dinner after her biostats final at one of her favorite places. They both knew that she would get an A in the class so this celebration didn’t feel premature at all. Throughout the Summer Session Lydia had always made time to see him, as independent as she was, she had creative ways of including him. Sometimes they went for a run together or met up for coffee before class. Once they had studied together in the library, but that was Jordan’s least favorite since pretending to take notes from a textbook he barely understood was pretty boring. He had even gotten to spend time with Kira and Malia, where it became clear how important their opinion on all subjects was to her. Lydia was sharp, but fooling two of her closest friends would make keeping up the façade even harder. 

She walked out of her exam and immediately looked for him, as per their plans. She looked so pleased to see him standing there. He gave her a big hug and said, “You’re finished! It’s over! Now we can head to dinner, your favorite place!”

"Jordan! Thank you! I wish every final ended this way,” Lydia laughed as she said it. She was smiling ear to ear. 

As they waited for their dinner to arrive, Jordan looked across the table to where she was sitting, looking tired, but beautiful as ever in the candlelight. “So, I know I don’t even have to ask, but how’d the final go?”

Lydia gave him her biggest tight-lipped smile she could muster. “I’m pretty sure I nailed it. It covered everything I was expecting it would, so no surprises.” She said it matter-of-factly, so even though she was grinning, she didn’t sound all that happy. She gave it a shrug, but he could tell something was bothering her. 

Jordan looked at her with concern as she took a huge gulp of wine, very unusual for her. “So what else is on your mind Lyds?” 

She looked up and she saw him surveying her face, looking genuinely worried for her. Quickly, she looked away from him, fidgeting with her napkin on her lap. Jordan wouldn’t look away. She sighed, “I guess it shouldn’t be a surprise that she keeps such close tabs on me, but apparently she’s interested in the man I’ve... Well my mother apparently has taken an interest in my personal life and I guess someone showed her a picture of you and me, um it must have been some time while we were walking around downtown, I don’t know when. It doesn’t really matter anyway. But, she was curious about who you are and since she will be in town this weekend she asked me to bring you to dinner at the White House, but only if we were, ah, as she put it, serious.” Jordan had never seen her so nervous or so unsure of herself, but as it dawned on him what he just heard her say, his own heart began to beat quickly. 

Shit, he thought to himself. He had tried to be careful about paparazzi without drawing attention from Lydia, but that was always so difficult. He really should be more surprised that it hadn’t happened sooner. This was obviously a challenge to him from Lydia’s mother who had made it abundantly clear that he was not to engage any more than he already had. He had already pushed every boundary he thought he could get away with; maybe this was her way of pushing back. And then it hit him like a ton of bricks. Lydia was asking him if they were serious. Were they? He wasn’t allowed to, that much was true, but did she want to be serious? Suddenly the rules didn’t matter, he desperately wanted to know if she wanted them to be more serious because he sure as hell did, but with every second that passed he knew he was fucking up even more. He knew how he felt about Lydia; the only question was how she felt about him. Feeling like he was diving from an airplane, he plunged forward.

“Lydia, I would be honored to have dinner with your mother. That is, of course, if you’ll have me.” After he said it, he couldn’t believe he had waited so long. He could have told her he was serious about her, the moment he first looked into her eyes on that elevator in the library, consequences be dammed. 

Lydia looked up at him, a little bit surprised and smiled, looking radiant, all nervousness gone. “Well, that’s quite the relief actually, because I really like you.” Her voice was soft, but sure and he felt his heart swell in his chest.

“Lydia, I really like you too.” For a moment their eyes locked and he wanted nothing more than to reach out and take her hands, but the tension was broken then by the waitress bringing their food. 

“As excited as I am to be invited to dinner, I’m not going to lie about being nervous as hell to meet your mom. I mean, how do I even greet her? ‘Your highness?’” He said the last part in a mock reverential voice, which had its intended effect of making Lydia laugh. 

“Ha! No, it’s not that serious, it’ll be just the three of us in the Residence, but she would expect you to dress business casual.”

“Ah, so no, to renting a tuxedo then?"

“That’s a big no, and it’s a no to the tuxedo t-shirt too. I’m so sorry. You’ll have to find a happy medium” Lydia said the last bit with a laugh and a fake sense of superiority. He could see she was relieved that he was taking it in stride. Feigning casualness in the face of impending doom was quickly becoming his best skill when it came to navigating his relationship with Lydia. He was constantly fighting two battles, one with himself about revealing to her his truth and the other with his superiors, trying to be the best agent he could be. Everyone, but Lydia was his enemy; the media was constantly looking to put Lydia on the spot, her friends were constantly testing him to determine if he was appropriate boyfriend material, and his superiors were constantly looking for any sign of a slip-up, any reason to fire him. He often found himself wondering whether this was how Lydia felt all of the time. She had to be perfect for the press or else they would spread lies and tales about her or even worse, she would incur the wrath of her mother. She also had to work hard in school if she was ever going to have a life and a career outside the shadow of her mother’s politics. He found himself increasingly sympathetic to the battles she was fighting and he wanted to be her best ally. 

“You knowing that I was actually considering the tuxedo t-shirt is what scares me the most here, but I get it. I can behave and pretend to be well dressed for once.” She and Jordan laughed together at the idea that Jordan wasn’t always on his best behavior when he was with her. He put his worries about crossing professional boundaries aside and enjoyed his evening with Lydia. 

Sure enough after he got back from his dinner with Lydia, saying goodnight to her in her apartment and then walking down the hall to his own, Agent Hale was waiting for him, standing in his kitchen. Jordan stood in the door way for a moment, contemplating running as soon as he saw Derek’s face looking even more murderous than usual. He closed the door and waited for the onslaught. 

“The President contacted me; apparently, her daughter texted confirmation that she was to be bringing her boyfriend to dinner at the White House tomorrow. You know anything about that Agent Parrish?” Agent Hale had his arms crossed, glaring at Jordan, his voice quiet, but venomous all the same.

“Look, what did you want me to do, I –” Jordan started, but was cut off by Derek.

“Don’t you dare fucking start in on the worthless excuses. I wanted you to follow your goddamn orders.” He had taken two large steps toward Jordan before Jordan could even step beyond the foyer, looking like it was taking an enormous effort to keep himself under control. “You were not to get involved like this. I understood you texting her, so that she could have your number. I even defended you spending quite a lot of time alone together, meeting her friends, and shit, but goddammit Jordan this is too fucking far and you damn well know it! I can’t have you going to the White House and parading around like you’re her boyfriend when everyone except for her – for all we know – knows about it!” Agent Hale was fuming and his tirade was far from over, but Jordan had to cut him off before he really got started if he was going to salvage this. He tried to remain calm, reasonable, and make his argument sound as logical as possible without resorting to dropping on his knees and begging not to be fired. 

“Agent Hale, I know I crossed the line, I know I went too far, but I gotta tell you; I didn’t have a choice. Sir, you made me swear not to get emotionally involved and you also told me not to blow my cover. It may look as though I may be involved with her, but I have stood by our agreement. If you honestly think the best course of action would be for me to leave and never see her again then I will, but I don’t think that’s what President Martin had in mind. I think she wanted someone who could make her daughter’s safety their number one priority. She wanted someone who could understand her daughter’s need for privacy and she has never once asked me to be a spy for her. I’m doing that; I’m doing my job and I’m doing it the best that I can. If the President wants her daughter safe, then please, by all means, explain to me how she would be safer with one less body guard, especially when that body guard is as close to her as I am.” His breathing had become shallow, the anger in his voice obvious. But he was also scared; afraid because he had just lied to his superior officer. 

“Agent Parrish, as much as I would like to throw you off this case, hell I’d love to throw you off the roof at this point, it’s not up to me. Apparently reports from the other agents on her detail have all been positive. She has a more regular schedule, I suppose that’s in order to accommodate seeing you and her friends, while still having time for school. They’ve all reported that she’s been getting more sleep and eating and exercising more regularly – again probably to accommodate you. Finally, they’ve also suggested that her overall demeanor has been...” he said the next part with a tired sigh, “happier.” The way he said it all made it clear to Jordan how annoyed he was to discover that Jordan’s lack of reverence for authority proved to be beneficial. “The agents and the President point to you as the direct cause of her improved health. So it looks like you’ve dodged another bullet. I have to warn you though, Jordan, you’re treading in very deep waters and with one word from the President, I will be all too happy to cut you loose and let you drown. Do you understand me Parrish? We are letting you stay…for now.” 

“Yes sir, I do. As long as she wants me by her side, I will be there. I understand the position I have put myself, the Agency, and the First Family in. I will continue to steer clear of the media and continue to hide my true identity from Bookbag. I will continue checking in and updating you of any changes in her schedule. I will continue to be and act like a professional.” Agent Parrish kept eye contact with Agent Hale the entire time he spoke, his military training coming out in his authoritative voice. 

“Parrish, she’s not the one who decides if you stay by her side. I am. Don’t forget that. You may be in everyone’s good graces, but I won’t hesitate to give you a time out for however long I deem necessary. Oh and on more thing before I go, and I really hope that I don’t need to be telling you this, but I, we all, expect you to be a perfect gentleman. I expect you to continue to stay emotionally uninvolved. I know Agent Erica has a particular fondness for Bookbag, much like she would a younger sister, but even she doesn’t cross the line. What I am saying is, do not even think about becoming physically involved.” Derek stepped past Jordan toward the door like what he said didn’t even require a response. It was humbling for Jordan to hear these words about Erica, but there was venom in the way Derek said the last sentence. 

“Sir, with all due respect, I don’t doubt that at all, but it’s going to be odd if I don’t touch her in any way, might raise suspicions.” Jordan had crossed enough boundaries as it was, so he wanted to be sure on this one before he went beyond the point of no return. 

Agent Hale whipped around, hand still on the door knob. “Agent Parrish, you can hold her hand all damn day. The kind of physicality I’m talking about is the kind where if I have to explain it to you, then I’m not worried about you getting there anytime soon. She’s not your mother, but if thinking about her that way is what it takes for you to keep your pants on, then by all means.”

“Yes sir.” Jordan replied, but Derek had already slammed the door in his face. He watched Derek peek out the peep hole, waiting until his back turned the corner. Jordan collapsed against the door, clutching his chest and breathing heavily. The relief flooded over him. He couldn’t believe would live another day. Finally, when his legs no longer felt like jelly, he started thinking about what this meant. He was meeting Lydia’s mother as Lydia’s boyfriend! It was incredible. He put his head in his hands and his elbows on his knees as he slid to the floor. He thought back to the lie he told Derek about not being emotionally involved. This was the first lie that wasn’t a lie of omission, but he cared more about never seeing Lydia again than he did about losing his job. His job had forced him to lie, lie to everyone, be someone he wasn’t, and to potentially hurt the one person he cared about besides his family and brothers he served with in the military. He wanted to believe that he was doing this to protect the First Family and to serve his country, but surely the way he felt about Lydia was proof that he had another motive. 

Before he took this job, nothing meant more to him than serving his country, but now that he was in her orbit, now that he was emotionally invested, being with her was becoming priority number one. Protecting her and being with her were becoming increasingly at odds with one another. For one thing, ending the lie and revealing his identity would mean hurting her and destroying her trust in him. Though it would ease his guilt, it would probably make her hate him and it wouldn’t necessarily make her safer, particularly if she became angry which could then cause her to lash out by ditching her security detail. Jordan thought about that last point. He hadn’t heard of any times she had tried to ditch her detail in the past, she didn’t seem the type. Besides, where would she go? The library? Jordan grinned at that thought. No, fearing her retribution for him lying was not an acceptable argument, so continuing to be her protection would have to do. If he told the truth, he’d be thrown off the case and that would be one less person looking out for her and he couldn’t allow that. 

***

Lydia had spent the afternoon picking and choosing outfits from hers and Malia’s and Kira’s closets, trying not to freak out about bringing Jordan to meet her mother that night. She had been nervous enough when she had introduced him to Malia and Kira, but this was meeting her mother who also happened to be the President of the United States, who also happened to be his boss’s boss – it was constantly like trying to walk a tightrope. Her friends, though acting disinterested in him while meeting him for the first time, gushed to her when they were alone about how they adored him. Yes he was handsome they had said, but it also because he genuinely seemed to care about her. He made them laugh and was his usual approachable, easy-to-talk-to self. Lydia appreciated how nice he was to them and how easy it was to hang out with all three of them at the same time. He never made any cracks about being a “ladies man” or about how he hated being the only guy surrounded by estrogen. He was made an honest effort to make them his friends as well. 

Her mother on the other hand, would probably make him so nervous, that she doubted he could be his casual self, which could make for an awkward night. She probably should have figured out a way to get out of this considering that she feared this was really a rouse just to get her to stop seeing Jordan. She felt like she was preparing for battle on two fronts. On one hand she was ready to defend Jordan as a perfect gentleman and boyfriend and on the other, she was ready to reveal to her mother that she knew Jordan’s true identity, throw it in her face with as much venom as she could muster. The first option thrilled her and the second option felt depressingly final. She hadn’t lied when she told Jordan that she liked him, if he wasn’t working for her mom and lying to her about his identity, then she could honestly see them making it work as a real couple. If she was forced to reveal her truth, then she would make sure to also fight for him. She would beg if she had to for him to keep his job; she didn’t want him to hate her for lying to him and never telling him that she knew who he was this entire time. She never asked Jordan to get this involved with her, but she also never stopped him. So she promised herself that the least she could do was to make up for it by fighting for him to keep his job should it come down to it. 

She hadn’t entirely forgiven him for lying to her either though. It made her feel a lot better, however, when she placed all of the blame for his position on her mother. It was easy to think about how it was her mother that was asking Jordan to lie and that he was just following orders. But that wasn’t really the whole picture. A nagging thought in the back of her mind reminded her that not even her mother would have told him to go this far with the relationship. Still, it was also a lie to say that she didn’t really like him. So though she refused to be taken for a fool by her mother, she still worried that if this was how the secret was revealed that maybe they still wouldn’t be able to make it work. She was putting him at risk by trying to out maneuver her mother and though she felt a little guilty, she stood resolute. 

Malia and Kira shoved her out the door after filling her with confidence. Lydia figured that they probably disapproved more than they let on, but they at least respected her dilemma enough to know that she needed cheerleaders, not another parent scolding her like an errant child. Jordan would be arriving separately, as Jordan had to go through a separate security check for the first time meeting the President. Lydia almost laughed when she had to tell him his instructions for meeting the President for a private dinner for the first time; if there was ever a boyfriend of Lydia’s that did not have to go through that, it was Jordan, but keeping up the façade meant following protocol no matter what. 

When she got there, Gerald, the butler, showed her in and after a friendly catch-up, told her that her mother was in the kitchen. Lydia rolled her eyes, hardly amused. She could imagine her mother dictating to the cooks, but never actually cooking. She ran up to her room to drop off her overnight bag. When she walked into the large residential dining room she was taken aback by no one being there, the table wasn’t even set. She walked back to the residence and found the table set in the small dining room, the one that was only used by the First Family and private guests. She was even more surprised to hear voices coming from the residential kitchen. She had assumed the main kitchen would be cooking for them, her mother always felt like she had to impress company. Surprised didn’t even begin to explain her emotions when she opened the kitchen door and found her mother side-by-side with Jordan, both wearing aprons and laughing like old friends. They were using cookie cutters to cut sugar cookie dough into cute animal shapes and Lydia almost pinched herself to make sure she wasn’t having some sort of nightmare. She cleared her throat, making her mother turn around, a questioning look on her face as if she had been rudely interrupted by an aide. She recovered quickly when she realized it was Lydia.

“Oh hi honey! I’m so glad you’re here!” Natalie spread out her arms and gave Lydia a huge hug, making sure not to get flour all over her daughter’s back. Lydia returned the hug feeling rather bemused at such a warm welcome and the sight of Jordan and her mother acting like best friends as if baking cookies was a normal routine for them. She looked at Jordan with a raised eyebrow and he beamed back at her. 

“What are you all doing in the kitchen? How long has Jordan been here?” Lydia said it, trying to sound as light-hearted as she could, but this was an image of her mother that she had not seen since her dad had died; was this some kind of reverse psychology act to make Lydia think she approved of the relationship hoping Lydia would sabotage it on her own? 

“Well, Frank is bringing up dinner in a few and Jordan got through the security check early so I just decided that he and I could get to know one another while we waited for you to get here. I haven’t made cookies in forever and I hadn’t told Frank to prepare a dessert so I just thought this would be fun. Come. Grab an apron and join us!” Her mother sounded genuinely happy and Lydia had already promised herself that she would be as cooperative as she could be for this dinner. She grabbed an apron and joined in, giving Jordan another smile and squeezing his hand when her mother had her back to them.

They were just scooping the cookies onto cooling racks, when Frank brought up dinner. Her mother and Jordan had found that they had a lot in common and had a similar sense of humor. Lydia realized that she hadn’t laughed with her mother like that in literally years, but being with her and Jordan was just easy. As they ate dinner her mother filled them in on some of the funnier things that had gone on in the West Wing. To the world it was always professional, but her mother would always tell Lydia about gaffes that had occurred behind the scenes; it was Lydia’s favorite part about being the President’s daughter. The mood soured for a moment when Natalie had asked Jordan about his family, but Jordan took it in stride.

“Uh, actually my parents died when I was very young, I barely remember them. They were both in the military on active duty when it happened. I was, uh, raised by my grandparents after that. They are also both deceased, but my grandmother was a teacher and my grandfather was an electrician.”

Natalie recovered quickly enough form her surprise. “Oh. I’m sorry to hear that Jordan. Lydia didn’t mention that fact when she told me about you.” Lydia kept her face still like a statue, a small, tight-lipped grin plastered on like it would never come off. She hadn’t known either and felt horrible when she thought about how she hadn’t really known anything about his childhood.

“That’s ok, don’t be sorry. I rarely mention it ever; really only when someone asks directly. Also, I know you lost your husband when Lydia was younger too, so I feel comfortable talking about it here with you both.” He gave a small smile to Lydia, who made a mental note to ask him more about himself when they were alone together again.

“Well, Jordan, I hope you continue to feel comfortable here. You’re welcome anytime. Any friend to Lydia is a friend to me and you certainly seem like the type to have on your side when you’re in a tight spot.” Lydia recognized the not-so-subtle nod to him being Secret Service, but could hardly be mad when she was being so nice to Jordan. It had taken three dinners with Malia and Kira before she started to treat them like family friends and only then, Lydia was sure it was only because her mother saw that they had good grades and thus were good study partners for Lydia and not the sort to run to the tabloids with juicy secrets. Jordan thanked her mother in such a sincere manner, that Lydia could have sworn she saw her mother blush, a first in her entire life.

They ate cookies in the living room while Lydia’s mom showed Jordan some picture from when she was governor with Lydia and her father by her side. Lydia was never embarrassed by these photos; she loved looking at her father and mother from before Natalie became President. Their family was so happy then and Lydia had so many good memories. She started to feel a little guilty by blaming her mother for working all of the time. If she had spent a little more time asking Jordan about his life before she met him and less time on her biostats class than she would have known that he lost both of her parents. She had passed that class with flying colors and spending a little less time buried in her studies would not at all have hurt her grades or her performance in that class, but at the time perfection had seemed so important to her. Maybe she was more like her mother than she would have liked to admit. 

After they had exhausted her photo albums Jordan left for the evening. Lydia was staying at the House for the night since her mother was in town, but she walked him out to the foyer. Grabbing his hands and looking into his eyes, she said, “Thanks for coming Jordan. Not many people get to her so easily.” 

“Lydia, I hope you weren’t nervous. Your mom is incredibly kind and I really appreciate her letting me get to know her this way. I’ll see you tomorrow right?” He squeezed her hands back and tilted his head, not breaking eye contact. 

Lydia held her tongue to keep herself from scoffing at his compliments of her mother. “Yeah, I’ll be home later, after dinner. I’m glad you enjoyed tonight, I know she did too. And again, I’m really glad you came.”

Jordan leaned down and kissed her cheek. “Goodnight Lyds.” He let go of her hands slowly and turned around to get in the waiting car. He smiled once more before closing the door. Lydia continued to stand there, even after his car drove out of sight with a smile on her lips like an idiot. He had kissed her cheek (another first for them) and had survived dinner with her mother. She sighed before finally turning around to go back into the house, but was startled by her mother standing at the top of the steps watching her. 

“Jeez, Mom. You scared me. Did you need something?” Lydia wasn’t harsh, just disconcerted. 

“No, honey. I don’t need anything. I’m just glad to see you happy. That Jordan is a nice boy; better than that Jackson character anyway.” Her mother had a small smile on her lips when she said this. Lydia hadn’t realized until after her mother had stopped talking that she had been holding her breath, steeling herself for the fight that she was sure was coming. As her mother turned and walked down the hallway, Lydia let out a quiet sigh of relief. It really did seem like they got along, though Lydia wasn’t fooled. She knew that her mother knew who Jordan was.

She sat down with her mother in their living room; they were quiet at first, but Lydia eventually filled the silence by talking about school things and her mother filled her in on the latest news, particularly about how irksome Congress was being. Lydia felt conflicted; she had originally thought that she would be furious with her mother for lying about Jordan and planting him as a spy, but she didn’t feel that way now. Her mother did know about Jordan, and may have even planted him purposefully, but she clearly wasn’t pressuring him for information and using him as a spy against her. If she had planted him, it seemed it was purely for security reasons, having another person ready and available to throw themselves between her and a threat. Lydia found that she didn’t even want to pick a fight with her mother about it because she genuinely liked spending time with Jordan and appreciated how easy it was to introduce him to her friends and to her mom. It was easy to spend time with her again, not fighting about what boy was best for her or about her grades or about how many Agents were on her security detail. It felt like they were on the same team for once, like they both just wanted the same thing, to get along and not have to worry about each other. Also, she reminded herself, if she told her mom that she knew, Jordan would lose his job and Lydia might never see him again. 

Just before she went to bed she asked her mother if she could bring Jordan to Paris with her for Christmas. She knew it was months away and that there was no guarantee that they would even still be together, but she also knew that if she did want him to come, then she would have to clear him through security well in advance. She and her mom went to Paris every Christmas, ever since her dad died so that they had a family tradition that was just theirs. Usually her mother worked the entire time, but neither of them could stand to be at home in the States where they would be reminded of him at every turn. The look of shock on her mother’s face after Lydia got done making her case for why she thought he should go with them was worth asking. It also told Lydia that maybe her mom wasn’t as okay with them being a couple as she had tried to make Lydia believe. Still, she finally relented and told her that he could go.

***

Not fully awake yet and Jordan already regretted falling asleep in this position. The flight to Paris on Air Force One had been incredible. Lydia took it in stride like it was old hat for her, which he supposed it was, but he was reveling in the fact that he got to just enjoy a trip with the First Family for once. Before he was assigned to her personal detail, he would fly to the target city, set up the mobile command center, staying in tiny hotel rooms for the duration of the trip, and then tear down the command center before hopping onto another cramped flight to the next target city and starting all over again. Traveling with the First Family as their guest definitely had its perks and now that he and Lydia were officially dating he was expected to act like and be treated like one. 

Usually dating Lydia entailed the same activities they did before they were dating, like studying in the library, but he lived for the Friday nights when they watched movies together, snuggling on her couch, or going to bars with her and her friends. He even liked her friends, who were accepting of him and just as understanding of Lydia’s social situation. Lydia kept her life separate from her mother’s life as best she could and when she was focused on school and research it was with an intense dedication that Jordan couldn’t help but admire. Some nights she would be in lab until the late hours of the night and he would surprise her with food or just stop by to say hi. She was passionate about her research, her school work, her friends, and though she didn’t talk about it a lot, her mother’s work too. He no longer saw her just as his security mark, but as this complete person whose ambitions and personality made him feel incredibly fortunate that he go to be this close to her. 

As he shifted slightly in the bed he doubled down on his regret for falling asleep like this. He and Lydia had spent all day, immediately after stepping off of the plane, walking around Paris like tourists. They had come back to the hotel room late the night before, their things already in their rooms – his adjoined to hers and her mother at the end of the hall. They’d gotten back so late, after barely sleeping on the plane and then exploring the city all day, that they fallen into her bed completely exhausted. He had managed to help her get her shoes off and thrown a blanket over her, but had then just crashed beside her, still in his shoes and jacket. He barely remembered checking in at all. He usually got cryptic texts from “Brother,” whom he checked in with every few hours, just like he had last night while half asleep. Lydia had just passed out beside him when he checked his phone and hastily responded, without reading or at least understanding the text that had prompted his response. “Bookbag and I in place,” was all he wrote before passing out himself, still on top of her covers. He roused slowly the next morning, eyes still closed, as Lydia shuffled around for her phone which was ringing nonstop. It was the President’s aide, Allison, calling Lydia, already sounding apologetic. That voice was never a good sign and Lydia was never in a good mood afterward, anger covering her disappointment at being let down by her mother, yet again. Jordan willed himself to wake up so that he could listen to what new disappointment awaited Lydia, but when he looked up she was glaring at him as if he done something wrong, phone still pressed to her ear. 

“Yes Allison I understand. If the press asks me I will say that I am grateful for the opportunity to have some time to spend in Paris…alone.” She said that last word pointedly before continuing. “Yes, I’m with my boyfriend and yes I understand that my mother is the President so I also understand that she is very busy and I don’t hold it against her, blah blah blah. Yep. Thanks for calling.” She rolled her eyes before hanging up, not even giving Allison a chance to say her good-byes and was still glaring at Jordan. 

“You really couldn’t have given me a head’s up that the plans had changed?” as she said it she shook her head and moved off the bed. She headed into the bathroom, groaning at having been awoken so abruptly. She scoffed at seeing her reflection in the mirror; she had fallen asleep with her makeup on and was in desperate need to brush her teeth. 

Jordan, feeling taken aback at her attitude, stretched as he got out of bed, pulling off his jacket. He looked at her feeling confused, but more so alarmed. “What do you mean Lydia? What plans?” As he followed her to the door of the bathroom he realized he could only remember groggily checking in on his phone the night before. Scratch that, he could remember checking in, but he couldn’t remember what any of the messages said. 

Lydia saw his hands move to his pocket where he usually kept his phone and said, “Go ahead and check in with your ‘Brother’ Jordan. Wouldn’t want him to worry.” She rolled her eyes as she said it, and went back to brushing her teeth as if they had personally offended her.

Jordan’s surprise turned to absolute dread when she said those words, but he knew that he actually couldn’t go any longer without checking his messages. He walked into his own room, grabbed his phone out of his pocket, plugged it in to charge, and began scrolling through the many texts he had received. He also turned on his TV to watch the BBC. Piecing together the news of the President leaving Paris suddenly and reading his texts, he figured out the problem. Apparently the president had been called early to a summit that was happening in Tokyo that was moved up on short notice and she absolutely could not miss it. Though this was supposed to be her vacation time with her daughter, her work came first as always. Lydia should have been informed by any number of aides or by her Secret Service Agents, but both parties had mistakenly assumed that the other had informed Lydia, which was understandable given the rush to get the President on the plane immediately. So when Agent Hale had checked in with Jordan he had been asking if Jordan and Lydia were on the plane, or “in position” as they should have been told by an aide by then. When he had responded with “Bookbag and I are in place,” he had not realized that he was confirming being on the plane with Lydia, he felt like an idiot for not realizing that the plans had changed and that he was texting at 4 am and that they would have taken off after that confirmation. Jordan was better than ten eyewitnesses for Lydia’s position so they would not have needed further confirmation, even if no other Agents had seen them board the plane. 

The tone of the messages on Jordan’s phone changed dramatically when it was discovered Lydia was not on the plane. The Secret Service was furious that they were not on the plane, Agent Hale even accusing Jordan of having purposefully lied about confirming Lydia’s presence on the plane. His instructions were clear. He was not to give up his cover and he was to stay with Bookbag at all times. His mouth hung open in silent shock; he knew he was in deep shit and he was eternally grateful that Agent Hale was on a plane on his way to Tokyo, where he wouldn’t be able to put Jordan’s head through a wall. There were other agents still in Paris and they would make up her detail until Agent Hale and other agents returned and took over once again. He owed Melissa and Erica massive apologies since they were probably bearing the brunt of Derek’s wrath right about now. He felt like shit, but he sat up straight when he heard Lydia’s shower stop. Suddenly, he remembered Lydia’s comments to him after she had gotten off the phone with Allison. He cautiously walked back into Lydia’s room.

“Finally caught up on the plan?” Lydia said with as much venom in her voice as she could muster. Jordan stared at her, keeping as still as a statue. Lydia had her arms crossed over her bathrobe, still glaring at him, standing in the bathroom. 

“No Lydia, I was just telling my brother that we’re in Paris for the day, why are you so upset…with me?” Jordan was desperate to stay calm, every alarm in his head going off. She huffed out in anger and as she swung away from him, she rolled her eyes. She shook her head, looking fed up, walked away, and very clearly stated “asshole” under her breath.

He walked over to the bathroom in three large, fast steps, and said quietly, “Lydia, what the hell are you talking about? I don’t know what the plan is, why are you even upset with me? I know Allison called you and that we are staying in Paris, but other than that I don’t know anything! What’s going on?” His breathing was shallow and his heart hammering, but he was doing his best to stay calm, to not jump to the worst conclusion. 

“Really Jordan? You mean the Secret Service hasn’t texted you with new instructions about keeping me safe now that everyone, except my closest agents, has practically abandoned us in Paris, because my mother couldn’t be bothered to remember she has a daughter for more than 24 hours?!” Lydia was breathing even harder than Jordan and was on the verge of yelling. She looked furious when she had wheeled around to face Jordan and she stood there now, looking angrier than he had ever seen her. 

“Lydia, what the hell are you talking about?! Why would the Secret Service be texting me, and not you, about your own plans?” Jordan asked while struggling with all of his might to stay calm. He was fucked. She knew, but just to be sure, she would have to be the one to say it. 

“Dammit Jordan, I’m not an idiot! I know you’re an agent! I’ve known the whole time!” She threw her hands up in exasperation. “I know that every time you text your brother that you’re really texting another Agent to keep them informed and I know that you were put on my detail by my mother!” She was yelling as she slapped him with every definitive fact, not one hint of a question in her tone. 

“Lydia, what the hell?! Why the fuck didn’t you say anything?!” Jordan felt rocked to the core and completely blind-sided by Lydia. 

“WHY DIDN’T YOU?!” bellowed Lydia. She was panting, her hands clenched in tight fists. Jordan felt the shock wear off and shame replace it. She was right, not telling her the truth before now and having her make the first move made this moment so much worse. But she had lied too and could still be lying. So he stood there staring at her. Once Lydia started she couldn’t stop. 

“I have known since that night I saw you in the hallway of my apartment building. I saw you the morning of my white coat ceremony and again running in the park, following my path, the next morning, and it was all so obvious to me that you were following me! You barely even look like a student; you try way too hard! That day we met in the library, that wasn’t an accident Jordan! I ran into you on purpose. I wanted you to back off, but you didn’t, you kept pushing yourself on me and I am LIVID that it has taken me confronting you, after months of us being together, before you actually admitted it! Look how far you took our relationship, lying the entire time; it’s disgusting!” Lydia spat the last word and turned to the bathroom, blinking back the tears of anger and frustration that had welled up in her eyes. 

Jordan stood there for a moment, feeling like he had been slapped in the face. Their entire relationship was suddenly under a microscope. He hadn’t realized he had been so obvious; she never let on, not for one second, that she suspected anything. Shame continued washing over him; she was right – he had taken this way too far. He had never meant to let it go this far while still lying to her. As an agent he was trained to keep his emotions concealed at all times, but he had failed to do so. In his attempts to get close to Lydia as her protection he had gotten to know her and blurred the lines between personal and official boundaries. He honestly could not bring himself to feel ashamed that he had grown to care for her, but to lie to her was unacceptable. His lies meant that he had failed her and he had failed the agency. But she wasn’t completely blameless and she certainly wasn’t clueless; again, she had lied too. Anger, brought on by shame and a need to know more, bubbled up inside him. 

He followed her as far as the bathroom door, feeling resolute. “Lydia, I never ever meant to take our relationship this far, especially while lying to you. Many times I tried to draw a line and I convinced myself that I would know when the right moment to tell you would be, but I never had the courage. But you didn’t say anything either! It’s hard now for me too feel too guilty about it knowing that at any time you could have said something and gotten rid of me.” She looked at him with a mixture of shock and defiance. He took a few beats before continuing, “You’re right; you’re not an idiot, I could literally never think that of you.” He said it in the most sincere way he could, the most earnest look on his face. “I think the reason you never said anything was the same reason why I never said anything – you like having me around. You like how far we’ve taken things and you wish being together was actually as easy as it’s been for us.” He said in a tone that was more accusatory than he meant for it to be having not quite let go of all of his anger. He hadn’t planned to say it like this, but as he did, he knew he was right. “I don’t know why you never said anything that first day when we met in the library, but I’m glad you didn’t. I think you know that if you didn’t want to be with me, if you didn’t feel the same way, you could have had me fired in a heartbeat just by admitting you knew who I was, that I had failed to be on your detail discreetly. But you didn’t.” He felt angry, but desperate at the same time. He needed to know she felt the same way he did, needed to hear her say it out loud. 

Before he could say anything more, though, Lydia retorted, “I didn’t continue the lie because I like you, so don’t you dare turn your hurt feelings against me! Also, how dare you say I lied! Me withholding knowledge of your true identity is hardly a lie! I knew that if I let on that I knew the truth that my mother would replace you with someone else much more discreet, much less obvious, and that I would be left with that much less freedom. This way I can pretend to have a somewhat normal life! That’s what I got from us being together! Also, don’t worry. I am as angry with her as I am with you! You both lied and you both let me continue living a lie! Did you two get a great laugh at me being an idiot? Well I’m not laughing Jordan!” Lydia had started out yelling, sheer hatred in her eyes as her words stabbed him like swords, but she ended quietly, barely able to choke back the sobs that were threatening to escape her. Her words hurt, but there were so many moments that they had shared together that he just couldn’t shake from his memory. There was no way that this was the whole story. 

“Don’t. Please don’t say you were just pretending. I don’t believe you,” he said in a quiet voice. He gathered his strength, he knew he was right. “You feel the same way I do and you never do anything that you don’t want to do. You don’t let anybody play you, including me, including your mom. I can sit here all day and give you excuses for why I lied, but I like what we have, I like being with you, and I didn’t, still don’t, want it to end. I lied. I know it was wrong, but I’m in deep with you and it’s too late to for me to make different choices.” He was prepared to get on his knees and beg if he needed to. “In fact, I’m glad I lied. I am.” He shrugged his shoulders, but didn’t let her interrupt him. He had to say it all now. “I’m glad because I cannot even begin to explain to you how being with you has made me so incredibly happy. I can only apologize for what I did and tell you that I don’t want to make any more decisions that mean lying to you again. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it. Want me to leave? I’m gone. Tell me how to make this right.” He stood there, hoping that he looked resolute with his hands at his side, ready to do whatever it took, praying internally that she would choose for him to stay. 

Lydia took a step back from him like she didn’t trust him or maybe she didn’t trust herself to be near him. “First of all,” she bit back, still very angry. “I don’t want to hear your apologies right now. We don’t have time to argue and I have so much more I want to say to you. The press is outside and we need to do damage control.” Jordan raised his eyebrows at the word “we.” He wasn’t surprised that she would be thinking of the press first. She was a warrior when it came to her mother; she would grin through anything for her. 

“Don’t look at me like that Jordan. I stand by what I said; the minute my mother thinks I know, she will replace you in a second and that means I don’t get anything that I want. Right now we have to focus on getting the press to think that I chose to stay in Paris with my boyfriend instead of going to Tokyo with her, lest they believe that she really did forget me, which, by the way, doesn’t look that great for the Secret Service either so maybe you could be a little bit understanding?” Her tone was pretty condescending, but Jordan knew that she was in full damage control mode and couldn’t have cared less about his feelings. The media could spin this anyway they wanted to, from wondering if the President had forgotten her daughter like a bad mother, to thinking Lydia had run away to marry her boyfriend, to even thinking that Lydia was staying in Paris to spend thousands on clothes and shoes, forever portraying her as the high dollar spender of taxpayer dollars. 

They both got ready as quickly as they could, preparing for a day of walking all over the city to see the most touristy sites possible, giving the media plenty of opportunities to steal photos, making their outing look genuine, and scandal free. Jordan showered and dressed in silence, still reeling from how this situation had imploded. There was no protocol for what to do here and even if there was, he felt his allegiance had shifted to following Lydia’s lead. She’d been playing him from the beginning anyway. He wasn’t here to be her parent or tell her what to do; to alter her natural course of action was inexcusable and if she knew he had told his supervisors (who would immediately inform her mother) she might try to give him the slip or even do that to the new agent and be left with no protection whatsoever. Until they went back to the States he would stand by her side according to her wishes. It was her ballgame and he would follow her rules. 

Just as Lydia had predicted, there was a small crowd at the front of the hotel waiting to demand a response from Lydia about why she didn’t follow her mother to Tokyo. The press loved connecting the dots of any perceived miscommunication between Lydia and her mother as proof of how her mother put work before her daughter, unless her daughter was good for a photo op. Of course this was one part of a larger discussion on how a woman could either be a good mother or a good president, never both. While Lydia was frequently angry with her mother and did sometimes feel neglected, she was a lot more understanding of her actions than she was at accepting such sexist bullshit from the press. She dragged Jordan by the hand through the crowd and barely paused to deliver her approved statements about how she had chosen to stay in Paris, her favorite city, to spend some quality time with her boyfriend. It was pretty much the first time that she had officially named him as her boyfriend, though their photos had been plastered all over tabloids with rumors saying so for weeks prior to their trip. The Secret Service had so far done an outstanding job in creating an elaborate story around him so any searches online about his personal life would yield only the results they wanted and nothing about his true identity. 

*** 

Lydia was relieved when they finally got past the press and slid into the SUV that was taking her and Jordan to the museum. They had planned to visit several places in Paris, but the minute Lydia stepped into the Louvre she knew she wouldn’t be leaving in a rush; she had been here so many times before and could still not get enough. A sense of calm familiarity had come over her as she walked the many halls and visited her favorite pieces. Jordan followed her lead closely, but never tried to engage her, which she appreciated. She needed the time to think. She was able to shake off her mother’s actions, after reminding herself that this wasn’t the first time and that it was never with malicious intent. It’s hard to argue that the President should prioritize her daughter over the rest of the country without sounding petty or selfish. But her anger wasn’t over being forgotten, it was directed at Jordan. Both of them, knowing that he was an Agent, allowed her to put herself in a position where she saw him first as a friend and then as her boyfriend, but never as a professional. She refused to believe that it was her responsibility to out him, especially considering that she had her reasons about not wanting her mother to know and replace him. But if she had to be really honest with herself, it was more than that. She liked him, it really was that simple. He made her laugh and she loved his company. He made her life easier and more fun.

So why had she chosen now to reveal that she knew? Nothing had changed significantly in the past 24 hours and the threat that Jordan would be replaced with someone else a lot less friendly was still very real. She could pretend that she just lost sight of the long game when she got that phone call from Allison and just saw red. She could blame it all on Jordan, believing that had he just told her that the plans had changed, then she wouldn’t have felt abandoned by her mother. But that didn’t seem right. It would have looked odd that he knew the plans better than Lydia did; no good cover story for that one. Maybe it was just that she was tired of feeling like she was taken for a fool. In the moment she was just upset that her mother hadn’t done more to tell her and that Jordan hadn’t told her the plane was leaving, though unless he was creative, he may have revealed himself then. Now she was making excuses for him. Her feelings were murky and anger was blurring her logical thinking. 

If she admitted to liking Jordan, then it seemed like giving her mother a win, like she got to choose who Lydia dated and control yet another aspect of Lydia’s life. But she couldn’t let her control her life; if she broke up with Jordan because she was angry with her mother, then it really only hurt her and Jordan. If she stayed with Jordan and kept their secret hidden, her mother would continue to feel justified in continuing the lie, like she got away with lying to Lydia. Either way, Lydia felt used. She had to make the choice without her mother’s influence, but she was way too angry at this moment to really think through it rationally. On top of that, there was the conversation Jordan had tried to have with her this morning. He told her that it was her choice and he really seemed to stand by that, but anger was still her primary emotion. 

“Tell me something. How was this even ok with the Secret Service? I mean I know they are discreet and very involved in the lives of their marks, but this seems more like an invasion of privacy than it does protection.” Lydia asked this while still not even looking in his general direction, but Jordan didn’t seem to care; he sounded relieved she was even still speaking to him, that it was her voice that broke the tense silence. 

“Overall, it really wasn't ok with the Service. I was only ever supposed to just be an extra set of eyes that was casual enough to blend in with a crowd or a class, purely as a next level of protection. This is hilarious now, given how obvious you said I looked.” He gave a small smile in Lydia’s direction, but she wouldn’t look back at him, focusing on the piece in front of her. He pressed on, “When you were friendly to me in the library, they allowed me to stay in contact with you, not realizing that you knew; I guess you fooled everyone, not just me.” Lydia, still not looking at him, wondered if he had smiled when he said that because she could have sworn she detected a hint of pride in the statement. “As an agent I am trained to keep my emotions in check; no matter how close we got, the Agency would have expected me to keep my distance, so they had no reason to suspect that I wouldn’t know and understand my boundaries. Even when it became clear that we were dating and you invited me to Paris with your mother, it was always understood that I was keeping… enough distance.” Now Lydia detected a hint of shame, maybe even remorse. He hadn’t said anything that she hadn’t already guessed. He was just an agent on official duty, but got lucky when he got a foot in the door with her. With an agent on the inside, they could better predict her day and who she would come into contact with, rather than reacting to any spur of the moment changes she may decide to make. He caught her off guard though, when she looked over at him and he started laughing.

Jordan shook his head slowly and had nothing but amusement written on his face when he finally said, “When they find out that you knew and how I have epically failed at my job, they will be furious. I mean you out-witted the Secret Service; every move we made was with the understanding that you were still ignorant of who I was.” He laughed again before sobering and said, “I mean, they will probably dishonorably discharge me from the military and the Secret Service. I won’t be allowed within 500 feet of you for the rest of both our lives, and I’ll have to move back to my hometown. So if you’re looking to enact revenge on everyone for lying to you, then just say the word and they’ll take care of it. They’ll hate how much paperwork there’ll be.” He paused for a moment and grimaced like the paperwork was already causing him a headache. If Lydia had been less angry, she might have felt sorry for him. Before she could respond, however, he continued. “I mean it Lyds, I’m not going to lie to you anymore. I’d say I’m sorry I lied, and I am, but I’m not sorry about being with you; I meant what I said this morning. I don’t even care that you knew this whole time, because honestly, it’s a relief. I don’t feel like I’ve taken advantage of you when I now know that you had some choice in the matter, but more importantly I want you to know that everything I said about how I felt about you is still true.” Jordan looked at Lydia with those big green eyes. For once, she felt like he was giving her the whole truth. 

Lydia considered his words, especially the part about him being dishonorably discharged, but only at first. He wasn’t the only one at fault and removing him would only create a slot for another agent, but really it was more than that. There were cute things about him, like the way he called her Lyds, his looks, his sense of humor, the way he held the door for her, and the way he smiled at her like she was the best part of his day. More than that though, he was smart, he constantly made an effort to get to know her friends and family, he never pressured her to study less and spend more time with him, and he supported her dreams, not just with words, but also in how much he respected her need for space. Was this really the kind of partner he could be, or was he just playing the part so as to stay on her detail and keep his job? Could she trust everything he had said to her? She felt her anger subside just a bit and glanced at Melissa who stood by the entrance to the gallery, scanning the room. She knew she couldn’t hear them talking, and though there were a ton of people milling about, Lydia felt completely alone with Jordan in this moment. For the second time since meeting him, Lydia felt like she was steadying herself to jump off of a cliff. “I don’t know everything about you; in fact, I don’t know anything about you at all. I feel like I have to relearn who you are like it’s day one. I mean is your name even Jordan?” She hoped her face showed how serious she was.

Jordan gave her a small grin. “Actually it is. Parrish was my mother’s maiden name so we chose that so it would still be a legal, given, name and I am an agent in the Secret Service assigned discreet protective detail to Ms. Lydia Martin, daughter of Natalie Martin, President of the United States of America.” He actually held out his hand for her to shake like he was meeting her for the first time. It worked; she smiled, brushed her hair behind her ear, and grasped his hand in hers. 

“Hi, I’m Lydia Martin, daughter of the President of United States, and currently a student at JHU, pleased to meet you.” She was all business, but she had a mischievous look on her face, eyebrow raised. She turned away, but grabbed his hand and dragged him toward her favorite pieces. After that, the tension was broken and conversation was easy. At her behest, Jordan told her about growing up, being raised by his grandparents after losing his parents when he was young, being inspired by their service to their country and wanting to be just like them, joining the military after high school, specializing in information technology as a technician in the navy, about his subsequent work in the Metropolitan Police Department specializing in cybercrimes, which then helped propel him to work for the Secret Service. Lydia listened with the intent to commit it all to memory and forget everything else she knew about him. She found that his mannerisms and the way he spoke were all the same; he was still the same Jordan she had always known, just with more, honest detail. 

They spent the whole day exploring the Louvre, Lydia showing him her favorite pieces, joking, laughing, and talking like they always had. Lydia couldn’t help smiling all day and didn’t even notice that she had linked her fingers in his and hadn’t let go for hours. She felt more comfortable with him than ever and was pleased to find that he seemed just as comfortable around her. They went to her favorite restaurant in Paris, where there was even a view of the Eiffel Tower, lit up in the night sky. They walked slowly back to the hotel and Lydia found that she did not want this perfect day to end; if she had known telling him would have felt like this, she would have done it so much sooner. Lydia felt as though she were floating on air as they approached their hotel. When they got to her door Jordan squeezed her hand and said, “Goodnight Lydia Martin,” and walked away to his own door. 

Lydia smiled, unlocked her door, leaving Melissa in the hall to change shifts with a night agent, most likely Erica. She closed the door, grabbed her pajamas, and headed to the bathroom to get ready for bed. When she came back out, Jordan was in his sweatpants and a t-shirt (no t-shirt was ever loose on him, she thought to herself) lounging on her bed, on top of the covers, with his hands behind his head on the headboard, small smile on his face. Lydia smiled at him, but her face sobered and he looked at her with his eyebrows raised, smile fading, expecting an explanation for her abrupt change in mood. 

“Jordan, I need to know. You said earlier that you would be dishonorably discharged for making our relationship seem anything more physical than the occasional hand holding we do on a daily basis. That means we can only show affection towards each other in secret, or you could ruin the rest of your life before the age of 40, right?” 

Jordan hesitated before nodding his head, but he quickly added, “Lydia, please don’t think that being with you would be life ruining. You’re not making me do anything I don’t want to do; I fully understand the consequences of my actions.” He sounded tired, but sincere. 

Lydia felt exasperated, “Why the hell would you risk everything like this?!” the questioned had been on Lydia’s mind all day. It popped out of her mouth somewhat unexpectedly, but she was determined to get an answer, and even if it wasn’t the one she wanted to hear. 

“Lydia, I was given this job because I was young enough, while also having enough military and police training, to look like I could blend in at JHU. It was a babysitting job and I was proud to be selected to serve my country, even if I didn’t think it was the best use of my technical expertise. But then you took me by surprise in the elevator in the library that day-” 

Lydia cut him off before he could finish, “But that’s just it Jordan! All your life you have wanted to serve your country and now you have put yourself at risk for losing it all. And if there is ever going to be a time to get out, now is that time! You could say I wanted more affection so you leave now, break-up with me, and you can go back to the job you want to do, rather than babysit me like I’m a petulant child! I’m giving you this out now, Jordan, please, if you want it, take it now before we go any further.” Lydia could feel her heart breaking as she said it, but she knew it was the right thing to do. If it were the other way, she’d want an out to save her career, and everything that she had ever worked for, as well, even if she never used it. 

“But that is just it Lydia, I don’t want out.” He sat up when he saw her shake her head at that. “Listen to me.” He sat up on the bed, swinging his legs over the edge, and reached out to her. She took two steps toward him and he took her wrists in his hand. He looked her in the eyes as he said, “I had no idea you were on to me; I was supposed to be tailing you, learning your schedule, but when you accosted me that day, I panicked. I mean seriously, I had orders for what to do if you discovered my motives, but I had no protocol for you being that forward.” He gave a little smile, like he was remembering that day in the library. “So I figured if I was supposed to learn your schedule, it would be easier if we were friends. At the time I told myself it was because it was about me trying to do my job better, not about getting closer to you. But dammit Lydia, these past months have included some of the best days of my life. I have always had trouble imagining myself settling down to get married, having kids, and living the domestic dream. Maybe it’s because I was always afraid I would follow in my parents’ footsteps, leave my family behind suddenly, but now I think it’s because I’ve never met anyone as remarkable as you are Lydia. You have turned my whole world upside down, a few months ago I would have considered this equal to ruining my life, but if this is what ruined looks like, then Lyds, It would be the best thing that ever happened to me!” Jordan’s fingers were entwined in hers and Lydia was fighting back tears. 

“Lyds, I held such derision for this job that I confess, I’m the one who made your codename ‘Bookbag’ and I’m sorry I did that. I did it before I knew you, back when I assumed that I was babysitting a literal child. But now I know better. Now I know that you are an incredible woman who can and will do anything that you put your mind too. You are kind, and generous, and fun, and beautiful, and a goddamn genius. You are so much more than a job to me now Lyds; you are everything and everything I said to you this morning in this very hotel room was the truth.” Jordan took a deep breath and stood up. He bent his head down and his brought his face very close to hers. “Lydia, I love you, and I’m not sorry about that and I never will be.”   
Before he could do or say anything else, Lydia grabbed his face with both hands and kissed him on the lips trying to convey how much he meant to her wordlessly. It was intense and passionate. Lydia’s heart soared when she felt him kiss her back, matching her fervor like he wanted to never ever be separate from her again, his hands on her hips. She moved her hands to his shoulders and gently pushed him back, far enough to where she could look him in the eye. He was pliant to her touch. 

She started talking fast and only sped up as she thought about every barrier in their path to happiness, “Jordan, I have several more years of med school and classes I have to take for my PhD, not to mention years of residency and however long it takes me to finish my thesis. My mother won’t reduce my detail anytime soon, but even then she only has three more years and I won’t have to have this level of protection anymore. Then you’ll be on someone else’s detail or busy with your job-” she sounded exasperated as everything she said came tumbling out all at once until she stopped abruptly to cover her face with her hands.

“Hey, hey, Lydia. What’s the matter, talk to me.” Jordan was trying to calm her and he reached to take her hands in his again and looked into her eyes. She looked tired and frustrated.

“Jordan, I just don’t know how much time we have and I want to live in the moment, especially since I feel like we both wasted so much time, hiding things from each other. I was so upset with my mom this morning that I took it out on you. I wanted to be so mad at you today. I wanted to rage at you about what a liar you are, but you’re not. Yes, you’ve now shared more of your background with me, but everything else is just the same. You’re kind, funny, patient with me and the press and my life, and you make me feel safe, but not at all like you’re smothering an errant child you’re afraid will run away. Jordan, I love you too, but I don’t want to have to worry about the future. I can’t sit here and wonder if you’re lying to me about who you are, what your job is, and what my mother knows.” Lydia’s voice had taken on a more authoritative tone as she voiced her concerns and she moved away from Jordan to giver herself more space to think. Jordan was again sitting on the bed, letting go with a gentle hesitance and knitting his brows together, concerned about her words, but he couldn’t help but be elated that she had admitted to loving him too. 

Lydia, ever the pragmatist started in on making a plan, “I think we have a couple of options. We either stop now, before I am absolutely crushed by you leaving me after I get attached, because trust me Jordan, if we decide to continue together, I’m all in. I want to be with you one hundred percent and I will be fully committed. Which is why I think the only other option we have at all, is to keep going as we have these past few months. We should keep from my mom and from the Secret Service that I know that you’re an agent and let them think that nothing has changed. I know it will be difficult and I know that there will be times you can’t tell me everything, but if we stop now, you can either continue to be my detail and we just will have to relearn boundaries or you can tell them I wanted more and that you rejected me and hope that the Agency will put you back on a desk assignment. I don’t want to see you be disgraced by being fired and I don’t want to see you begin to resent me, should that happen.” She was standing across the room with her arms folded in on her, like she could keep her heart from breaking apart by physically holding herself together. 

“The way I see it, I only have one option.” Jordan sat back down on the bed and put his elbows on his knees and rested his chin on his hands. “Lydia, hearing you say that you love me and that you want to protect me from losing what is essentially my life’s culmination of all of my hard work and determination is endearing, but it’s my job to protect you not the other way around.” Jordan was smiling; his casualness was a stark contrast to Lydia’s fervent scheming.

Lydia scoffed and tilted her head at him with her mouth open, “Jordan! This is what I am trying to say. Your work is your life, you have spent years working up to this and you could lose everything, even me. If you and I get caught then as you said earlier, you’d be disgraced and banned from being within 500 feet of me. I can’t do that to you, especially since we have only known each other a short time, is it worth it to take such a chance?!” Lydia asked the question, hardly daring to believe that he was choosing her over everything else. 

Jordan jumped up from where he was siting and wrapped his arms around her, again bending his head down so that their noses almost touched, but was still looking her in the eyes. “Lydia, I’m sorry. I don’t want you to think that I’m not taking this seriously, though I do take protecting you very seriously. Don’t worry about me losing my job, because I promise you, it will have been worth it even if all we get is tonight. I’ve already told you, losing my job wouldn’t ruin me, but losing you, that would be devastating. All that time I spent working and dedicating my life to work and only work, and then finally being selected as an agent, while that was a moment I will forever be proud of, it pales in comparison to meeting you and getting to spend the last few months getting to be with you. You are all I care about right now and I too want to live in this moment with you. I agree, it will be hard, and there will be moments that I can’t tell you everything or we may have to lay low and spend some time apart, but even if all I get is a text from you, telling me all about your day, then I promise, it will be worth it for me and nothing would make me happier than spending as much time with you as possible. Please don’t question that. Lyds, I love you and I will say it as many times as it takes so that you won’t forget it.” Lydia had wrapped her arms around his neck and her eyes searched his face, hoping that she wouldn’t detect a lie. 

“Ok, but no more lies. If you can’t tell me, that’s one thing, but I need to know I can trust you Jordan, not just Agent Parrish. And I won’t lie to you either; I’m done pretending you’re someone else.” Her eyes were pleading with him. 

“Lydia, no more lies, I promise, at least to you. If you want me to come clean to the agency then I will. I’ll do whatever it takes for you to trust me.” Jordan didn’t even blink when he said it, no trace at all that he wasn’t taking this seriously.

“No, it’s not that, it’s just that, it’s hard for me to believe that my mother never interrogated you for information. You really never told her anything?” Lydia held her breath after she asked him.

Jordan’s arms wrapped tighter around her waist, but he didn’t even hesitate before answering her, “Lyds, the only thing I ever did was text confirmation of location when they asked and filed a report of all of our locations and of anyone we encountered. Sometimes if I thought someone looked suspicious I wrote that down, but that’s it. Your mom never even really spoke to me unless you were around. I think that she really respects your privacy. Besides, what are you even afraid of? You spend more time in the library than anywhere else. If you’re afraid that she might think you’re a nerd, I think that secret’s already out.” He smiled as he said it, but he wasn’t laughing at her. 

She smiled at him, shrugged one shoulder, and contemplated her response for a moment before answering, “It’s just that I always wanted her to know that I supported her while she was in public office. I know sometimes when I’m with you I talk about how I disagree with her stance on some topics, but I would never say those things publicly or even to her. I want her to know that I am always on her side and that I don’t insult her behind her back. If I really disagreed with her, I’d want her to hear it from me.” She gave a sigh before pulling away to sit on the bed, exhausted. 

“No worries, Lyds, I know that stuff is between us. Even if she had ever asked, which she didn’t, I wouldn’t have shared something so private. But, again, and I really do mean this, she never asked. She trusts the agency to protect you and to keep your private life reserved. I know that she trusts you to put school first and to continue to behave with discretion while in public, and is really only worried for your safety.” He put his arm around her waist and she rested her head on his shoulders. 

After a moment, she tilted her head up and he leaned down and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. She pulled him toward her, playfully and he laughed, scooping her off the bed, firefighter style and onto his lap. She wrapped her arms around his neck and started kissing him again like it had been too long. He scooted the two of them across the bed so that he was resting his torso against the headboard and she landed so that her knees straddled either side of his waist. Lydia lost track of how long they spent making out; she wanted to remember every single moment of this, the way his arms felt, the heat of his body keeping her warm, the way his lips looked after they had been kissed. Finally, they snuggled down into the bed together, him wrapping his arms around her, allowing her head to rest on his chest. 

***

The rest of their trip in Paris was spent sightseeing and enjoying each other’s company. Returning to the states would be difficult; vacation would be over and it would be harder to just be together. With their adjoining rooms, they could be together for as long as they wanted in complete privacy, but separate apartments and increased surveillance would put them back in a position of keeping the depth of their relationship quiet. Air Force One picked them up in France on its way back to the Washington. Natalie decided that they would spend Christmas at the White House this year due to work. When Lydia and Jordan boarded the plane, Lydia was immediately whisked away to her mother’s study by Allison and was taken by surprise when her mother apologized for leaving so abruptly and for not doing a better job ensuring that Lydia was on the flight. Usually Natalie didn’t even apologize, knowing that it was always the same excuse and Lydia always understood, but she appreciated the attempt nonetheless. Her mother was the President and Lydia never caused any trouble or gave her mother any added stress with worries about media attention. She had been angry in the moment because she had felt like her mother put her on the back burner once again, her lack of attention causing her to boil over, but the fight that ensued between her and Jordan as a direct result, was actually cathartic. It facilitated them speaking their truths to one another and brought them closer than ever. As Lydia sat in her mother’s office talking about how much she enjoyed Paris she felt closer to her mother as well; she no longer feared her as a spy, accepting that this time, she really was just worried about her safety. 

***

When they landed in the States, Jordan went back to his apartment at JHU while Lydia went back to the White House with her mother. Jordan had been immediately scolded by Agent Hale for the entire car ride home; the Agency was furious that for several hours Lydia was without her normal level of protection, but again, the President’s grace saved him. She had appreciated Jordan’s willingness to stay behind in Paris and act as Lydia’s excuse for staying. Agent Hale again reiterated that the President was not blind to how much happier Lydia seemed since meeting Jordan and at these words Jordan felt his heart swell. It was hard for him to be too bothered by Agent Hale’s lecture when the bliss of Paris was so recent. By the time Agent Hale dropped him off, however, he felt like their relationship was more tenuous as ever; there were only so many boundaries he could cross before he found that impenetrable wall.   
The Saturday night before classes started, Lydia and Jordan had stayed up most of the night watching a marathon of bad movies and Jordan had fallen asleep on Lydia’s couch. He woke the next morning to Lydia already dressed and putting on her coat quietly.

He squinted at her in what little light was in the room. “Lydia, what’s going on? It’s Sunday. What’s wrong?” He was still very groggy.

“Shhh. Go back to sleep. It snowed last night and I wanted to be the first to walk through campus with the snow still untouched and while it was still quiet out.” She whispered, giving him a peck on the cheek. 

“If you let me come with you, I’ll buy you breakfast. I’d like to see how campus looks like coated in snow too. That is, unless you want to go by yourself.” Jordan was fully sitting up now, but he didn’t want to pressure her. 

“Of course you can come, especially if you’re buying breakfast.” Lydia said brightly. “I just didn’t want to wake you because I thought you wouldn’t want to wake up early in a Sunday. We can go to Elmo’s, but we have to hurry before the rest of the world wakes up.” Lydia was still talking quietly, but her excitement was obvious. Jordan got dressed in a rush, grabbed his coat and gloves and joined her on her walk. 

The campus was beautiful and just like she wanted it to be, there were very few other people out enjoying the scenery. She and Jordan walked with arms linked enjoying the quiet and each other’s company. Jordan told her a story about how when he had been in the military they had been having a snowball fight and he had gotten into trouble with his superiors when he had accidentally pegged a high ranking official in the face. In his defense, he hadn’t seen him, but had been caught up in the game. He shoveled a lot of sidewalks after that. Lydia was still laughing at his story when he asked her, “Ok ok, go ahead and laugh at my suffering. I guess we can’t all be Ms. Perfect. I mean, have you ever gotten into trouble with the Secret Service?” He asked her playfully. 

Lydia laughed and said, “No, not really. I have a plan, see. It’s just easier when I work with my mother, not against her. One day, when she’s no longer holding public office, it will be a lot easier for me to live my own life and when that day comes, I expect my mother to remember how easy I made her life and reciprocate the favor. I gave her the first 25 years of my life; she can give me the next 25. That being said, I have had my fun with the Secret Service.” Lydia felt comfortable divulging that amount of personal information with Jordan, but at the last sentence she glanced up at him, eyes looking mischievous, with a small grin.

“Uh oh, what’d you do?” Jordan was genuinely curious. He had joined the service part way through President Martin’s administration and had not heard of any stories involving Lydia, other than she had been a perfect security mark.

“Well, Agent Melissa is my main agent now, but for the first three years, there was someone else in her place. It was Agent Deucalion and he was an absolute asshole.” When she saw Jordan’s eyebrows climb his forehead in surprise, she nodded her head is assurance. “He was! I couldn’t stand him. He viewed me as a stepping stone to a higher position. If he controlled every aspect of my life and made sure he kept me under a microscope then he was succeeding at his job and that’s all he cared about; it was kind of scary how he viewed me as a literal package to be packed up and parceled around at his will. So, one day I, uh, I lost him.” She gave a little shrug like it was nothing, but her smile showed how proud she was of that moment.

“I can’t believe you actually lost him. I mean, the Secret Service takes their job pretty seriously and I don’t think I remember hearing about any adventures of the First Daughter going rogue.” Jordan was dying for more information. 

“Well I wasn’t gone for long, just long enough to make my point. It’s one thing to make sure you always have eyes on me, it’s another to try and keep me from my own high school prom and graduation.”

“What?! Ok, that does sound pretty extreme, but surely he must have had a good reason. Not having one would be taking your protection way too far.”

“So you agree then?! The man was the worst! And it killed me that he could convince my mother and get her on his side. I almost missed my graduation. Prom I might have been able to handle skipping, but graduation? Hell no! I worked way too hard for that to then miss it.” Lydia looked offended at the very memory.

“What happened? I can’t imagine it was easy.” Jordan could hardly believe that Lydia had this malicious side to her. 

“Well I was dating this real asshole of a guy, Jackson, who only liked me for the press attention. He could be really sweet when it was just the two of us, but every time we were in public or around his friends, he was awful. Deucalion approved of him because his family was rich and his dad was a U.S. Senator so I guess Deucalion saw him as ‘safe.’ That worked for me because then my mother automatically trusted him – whatever Deucalion said went, as far as she was concerned. Anyway, he asked me to prom, and after Deucalion finally agreed, we got there and Jackson was his usual pompous self, constantly begging for media attention, and practically ignoring me the entire time. I just couldn’t handle it. Especially after the convincing it took to get us there. I mean, we couldn’t ride in the limo with our friends, or go to any after parties, and it was during the planning of the whole thing that Deucalion told me that he was considering not letting me walk at graduation since this was already so much trouble because clearly I was at such a high risk of danger, being so high profile.” Lydia rolled her eyes at the memory, mocking how serious Agent Deucalion was taking her security detail. “I just couldn’t take his or Jackson’s attitude and I needed a break from them both. So I went to the bathroom to just get physically away from them and breathe, but while I was in there, another girl was there leaning over a toilet puking up all of the alcohol she had consumed while pre-gaming right before coming to prom. She told me her friend was hunting down her purse and cell phone so that she could call her mom to pick her up. So I sat with her, held her hair back, comforted her until her friend came back with her stuff. Her friend offered to go home with her, but the girl convinced her to go on ahead with the rest of their planned evening. Their group rented an SUV limo and they were headed out to go bowling after they were sure that her mom picked her up so that they could be sure that she would get home safely. That poor girl thanked me over and over for being so nice to her, which sort of helped me assuage the guilt for doing what I did next.” Lydia gave a little shake of the head at this, but grinned nonetheless. 

“She was a year younger and I didn’t really know her or her friends that well, but even that didn’t stop me. I, uh, I asked her if she were willing to switch dresses and when she obliged I asked her friend if I could leave with them. I think they knew I was using them to ditch my protection, but they also thought it would be cool to hang with the President’s daughter so I guess that’s why they obliged. So, I switched dresses and snuck out of there surrounded by a group of people. First we helped the girl into the car with her mom, who looked confused at her different dress, but I guess she was more concerned with how drunk she was to say anything, and then I just climbed into the limo with the group. Even if Agent Deucalion was watching the bathroom, the same number of people that went in, came back out, so I guess he didn’t really notice that something was amiss. That group was so nice and really good at helping us get out of there.” Lydia laughed when she relayed that last bit; they really had been so nice to her. “You know, usually people act like nervous statues around me, but they were just so cool with whatever, maybe it was the alcohol. Besides, all we did was go bowling. As soon as we got to the bowling alley, I pulled out my cell phone and called Deucalion. He was furious! Especially since he was still standing there at prom looking for me! But obviously he had to come and get me. He was not at all pleased with the location; I think he thought it was a seedy part of town or something. As I got into the car, I told him that if he didn’t agree to let me go to my graduation, then I would tell my mother that I had been officially out of reach from the Secret Service for a total of 27 minutes, an unprecedented amount of time. Just when I thought he couldn’t get angrier, I swear I saw the veins in his head surge all at once.” Lydia paused to laugh again, doubling over this time. After calming down she continued, “But, ultimately, we struck a deal. I never told anyone, except for now of course, but I trust you to keep a secret, and he let me go to my graduation. When he left my protection, three years after that night, he shook my hand and told me that if I ever wanted a job in the Secret Service, to give him a call. We were never close, not like I am with Melissa and Erica, but I think I earned his respect that day –I’ve always considered it my greatest triumph.” She looked so proud of herself when she finished. 

“Lydia Martin, I am in awe of you. You are a goddess amongst mere mortals. I cannot believe that not only did you escape Secret Service protection for an entire 27 minutes, AND manage to keep it from your mother, but that you then blackmailed an Agent into getting what you wanted. I mean, wow that is incredible!” Jordan was staring at her in awe as he said it. They kept walking, but he was shaking his head in disbelief, smile on his face. His face darkened slightly and he said, “Actually I’m a little afraid of you, now.”

Lydia giggled, “What can I say? He tried to take something away from me and I wanted it badly enough to risk everything.” She shrugged it off like it was nothing, but it had been a huge risk for her.

“What does that mean, you risking everything? I mean sure, Deucalion would’ve been in trouble, yeah, but what, you would have been given a slap on the wrist? Surely your mother wouldn’t have punished you too badly.”

“You clearly don’t know my mother then. I never act out, never do that rich, carefree, heavy partier stereotype, mostly because it isn’t fun for me and would get in the way of my schooling, but mainly because I really do expect her to reciprocate. I mean, I do understand better than most how the pressure that comes with this territory might make people act out and do wild things. But when it comes to my mother and me, I really do expect that when she is no longer holding office, that she will let me have a lot more freedom to do things that I want to do, without forcing me to pick the path that will make her look the best with the press. I’m really trying hard not to take all for this for granted; I know that her positions in life have helped me achieve my dreams, but there comes a time when I have to make decisions for myself, even if they aren’t in her best interest.” Lydia was no longer laughing and smiling when she said this. 

“While I may never truly understand your situation, Lydia, I think I understand at least one aspect of it. I have spent my entire life doing things that I thought would make my parents proud. I loved my job working in the cyber-crimes department with the D.C. police, but I kept feeling like I wasn’t doing enough to serve my country. I kept asking myself, what would my parents do? And I decided to work for the Secret Service because I had both police and military training. I thought being on First Family detail would be the ultimate goal on the path to being the ultimate patriot and I would finally feel like I did right by them, but honestly, there were a lot of aspects that I just didn’t like and it made me miss my former job. Following you around wasn’t what I was good at, as you clearly found out, and so I just felt like I disappointed them and my country, no matter what I tried. If there is one thing being with you has taught me, it’s that I can feel complete, even if I am not spending every second of my day, making sure my parents would approve and my parents aren’t even around to hassle me about it! So yeah, I can’t even imagine what the pressure you feel must be like with your mother being the President of the United States. You amaze me every day with how well you put up with the media, the Secret Service, the pressure to do well at school, and the pressure from your mother. I mean, I’m not even sure many of the agents in the service could handle that much stress, and we train for years. I guess Agent Deucalion had a good reason to offer you the job,” Jordan ended light heartedly. 

Lydia stopped walking and just looked up at Jordan. She reached out and grabbed his hands and said, “Jordan, I don’t have to know your parents to know that they would be proud of you. You have achieved an incredible amount in the span of only a few years, you’re barely thirty and you are a full-fledged agent! Most people work their entire lives for that.” Jordan could hear the sincerity behind her words and he was grateful. “Jordan, I put up with it because I know how lucky I am and because I know there is a light at the end of the tunnel. But what about you? When does this end for you? At what point are you allowed to go back to your job, a job that you love again? Which, by the way, I think your parents would be incredibly proud that not only did you find a job you love, but that you’re good at it too. I mean, that’s rare for most people, not just a Special Agent.”

Jordan looked down into her eyes. She was so beautiful wrapped up in her scarf and hat and her words made him feel inspired, like he really could walk away from all of this and go live a normal life. But now things were more complicated than ever. Leaving this job didn’t just mean leaving the military or the Treasury Department, it meant leaving Lydia. Every day, that sacrifice was getting harder and harder to make. “Well, first I have to be sure I don’t mess it all up and get dishonorably discharged from the military. That comes with making sure you stay safe.” He had started walking with her again, linking her hand in his, putting both their hands in his coat pocket to keep them warm. 

Lydia rolled her eyes. “You know, sometimes I get sick of everyone else thinking that I’m the one who needs to be protected, but not giving me any tools to learn how to protect myself. I mean, let’s say something happened to you and I was on my own. It’s not like I get a gun or anything.”

“Lydia, you hit your panic button.” Jordan was very serious when he said it, willing her to understand how important that part was, looking over at her while they walked. 

“Yeah, I could do that, but that just brings in more agents. What if something happened to them, or the panic button, what then? I want more protection than that.”

“So what, you want a gun? Not sure that is going to fly with your mother.” Jordan was joking when he said it, but he understood her need to feel safe.

“No. I mean, I want to learn how to protect myself with my own hands, you know, I want to learn how to fight.” She looked so resolute when she said it, her voice barely wavering.

Jordan knitted his brow. “Oh, yeah, I see. You want to learn hand to hand combat should it ever get to that? Still not sure anyone could convince your mother that regular training sessions that would leave bruises on your perfect skin would be a good idea.”

Lydia blushed at the comment about her skin. “Well you know, I’ll keep your secret if you keep mine. I have no intention of telling anyone that your identity is no longer a secret and in return you can teach me to fight.” She had a devilish grin on her face and a glint in her eye. Jordan knew this look all too well.

“Excuse me?” Jordan said it in a mock insulted voice, “I’m not enough of a gift to get to keep if you keep my secret? You want more?” He smiled as he said it. 

“Yes Jordan. I’m serious. I hate feeling helpless and sometimes all of the agents around me highlight just how helpless I would be if it really came down to it. I can’t protect myself, but you can teach me how and no one has to know. Please? I think I would be a good student.” She gave him a look like she was challenging him, daring him to treat her the way everyone else did, like she was fragile, a thing that could easily be broken without the right security. 

“Lydia, I would be honored to be your coach. It’s funny how two days ago I felt like my entire world was crashing down around me when you scared the ever-loving shit out of me with knowing my true identity and now here I am thinking about inviting you back to my apartment to teach you how to fight should you lose your security protection.” He paused long enough to smile, gazing into her eyes. “My place has plenty of room for us, plus it’s close enough to your place so it will be easy for us to schedule times without being too conspicuous, though no one has mentioned me staying the night at your place the past couple of times.” He tried to sound agreeable, but changed to genuine concern as he continued, “I feel like I should reiterate though, that your agents will never ever leave you. They will be with you till they die, they will literally die before they let you go out of their sight and Lydia, I’m right there with them. I know that technically I’m another agent, but Lydia, even if I wasn’t I would die to protect you. You don’t have to feel anxious or scared; you’re not leaving my side anytime soon.” They had stopped walking again and he had his hands on her waist, looking with into her eyes, willing her to believe him.

Lydia felt touched at his words, her voice quavered just a bit before she spoke, not quite able to make eye contact. “I know, Jordan, but I need this and I really only trust you to do this right.”

Jordan nodded in understanding and pulled her close. He put his arm around her shoulders as she cuddled up against him. “Ok,” he said, “but first, breakfast.” Lydia was practically giddy as they walked to Elmo’s. 

The spring semester was busier than ever for Lydia. On top of classes and research she was spending at least two hours every day with Jordan working out, training in self-defense, or going for runs with him in the park. She had progressed quickly, which hadn’t surprised Jordan at all, and training together was actually fun for both of them. Jordan wanted to celebrate her success, both for her academics and for her training, so he planned a small surprise for her. He invited Malia, Kira, Scott, and Stiles, to meet him and Lydia at their favorite night club for a few hours. Though Lydia rarely ever had time to go, Scott and Stiles were frequent patrons and the space attracted a slightly more mature crowd, so the agency put it on their approved list of businesses that Lydia could visit. There were agents scattered about the club and more outside, though most of them were casually dressed and fit right in with the crowd. Lydia had laughed the first time they had gone and realized how many agents had to also come, thinking she would never get used to being followed by such an entourage. Tonight though, she was finding that it was difficult to care when she was with her favorite people, Jordan included. Lydia felt like she was floating on air; an out of body experience that was fueled by relief at another semester of aced classes and finished finals. She and Jordan were sitting beside one another and the smile on her face was so natural that every time she looked at Jordan smiling he couldn’t help but beam right back at her. They had commandeered their favorite couches in the best and most secluded spot in the club, too loud for anyone outside their square to overhear their conversation. They cheered to Stiles graduating the police academy and getting hired to the DC Metropolitan Police Force. They cheered to Scott getting accepted to veterinary school after three years post-baccalaureate work. They cheered to Kira and Malia passing their finals and they cheered to Lydia finishing this year at the top of their class. Later, when she was asked to recount what had happened, she would say that the last thing that she remembered was that she had not wanted the night to end. 

***

“Where’s Lydia?” Jordan asked Malia in a non-accusatory tone, not even looking around for Lydia whom he thought must just be right behind Malia. 

Malia looked at Jordan questioningly as she sat the drinks down on the table. “Wait,” she said as she looked around her quickly. This had Jordan on red alert now as he stared at her, on the edge of his seat. “She isn’t here? We went to the bar to order drinks then she dashed to the bathroom saying she would meet me back here. You all didn’t see her?” Malia looked more concerned as she finished talking, feeding into Jordan’s sudden alarm.

“No Malia. She didn’t come back.” Jordan still sounded calm when he said it, but the panic was just under his skin at that point and he scanned what he could see of the club. He jumped over the back of the couch to where Boyd was standing, scanning the crowd. “Boyd, do you have a visual on Lydia?! No one here knows where she is, last known heading toward the bathroom.” Jordan said it like he never left her detail, all authority and business. 

“Agents check in, need a visual on Bookbag. Now.” Boyd said it into his wrist, pressing his finger to his ear piece, no longer a casual visitor of the club. After a moment he looked at Jordan and said, “Ennis followed her that direction, said she left the bathroom and is headed toward the main entrance.” He had pointed back to the front of the club. Into his wrist he said, “Outside Front Entrance Agents, be advised, need confirmation that Bookbag is leaving club.”

Jordan and Boyd started toward the main entrance/exit, to the confusion of everyone else in their square who couldn’t hear their conversation. In a flash, Boyd grabbed Jordan’s arm and was pulling him the opposite direction, back toward the bathroom and the back of the club. Boyd started running, pulling Jordan beside him as he shouted into his wrist, loud enough for Jordan to hear, “Confirmation denied, similar features and clothing, but not Bookbag! All agents, be advised, inside club report to last known site, rear bathroom and rear exit onto East alleyway.” 

Jordan’s heart was in his throat as he ran with Boyd, dodging all of the people on the dance floor. He scanned the room as he went, it was crowded, but he knew what he is looking for – people running in the opposite direction, large groups all turned the wrong way, Lydia’s red hair, anything to help him understand where she might be. Boyd kicked in the door to the bathroom with his gun drawn, Jordan checked the people scattering as they left the area, frightened by the gun and the sudden intrusion. Before he even got both feet over the threshold, however, he was yelling at Jordan, relaying everything that he heard Agent Hale saying over the earpiece, “Agent down, East alleyway, rear exit, Agent Reyes found unconscious but breathing! Bookbag still missing! Be advised, all agents we have a code 2723! Code Fuchsia!”

Both men came barreling into the alleyway, just feet from the bathroom, Boyd still had his gun raised. There were five other agents already there, though Agent Reyes was the only one who had been originally stationed to the back alleyway. One agent was tending to Agent Reyes who was lying motionless on the pavement. After checking that the other Agents were securing the scene Boyd screamed, “ERICA!?” and ran toward her body, kneeling down beside her head. She had sustained a gunshot wound to the side of her abdomen and a small pool of blood was amassing at the base of her skull from where her head hit the pavement, effectively knocking her unconscious. After being reassured by the attending Agent that everything possible was being done to help her, Boyd jumped to his feet, and searched for Derek to receive his marching orders.

Derek was giving orders to have all of the bridges, roads, and highways within a 50 mile radius closed. He directed the grounding of all flights to and from all airports on the east coast and was sending agents to close marinas and to dock all ships. Other agents were calling the Department of Homeland Security, TSA, Diplomatic Agencies, and, of course, the President herself, as well as half a dozen other Intelligence agencies. Secret Service vehicles had pulled into the alleyway to gather evidence and set up a temporary command center, all while attempting to keep the media at bay. Jordan was blindsided by all of the activity, all of it just a blur of activity and a droning buzz in his ears. Just moments before, he was sitting with Lydia on a couch in the club and now it was like she had vanished into thin air. Helicopters were hovering above them, their lights searching for traces of Lydia or the perpetrators who had shot Erica and were the main suspects in the kidnapping of Lydia. Jordan walked up and down the alleyway, opening doors, only to find other agents were already there, scoping out every possible route of escape. The lights made something glint in the otherwise dark alleyway and that’s when Jordan saw it – Lydia’s panic button. 

She always had it on her and had even started altering her wardrobe so that she could make sure it was always easily accessible. She wasn’t supposed to keep it attached to keys, lest she forget her keys, or forget to carry them with her for whatever reason, but it was impressed upon her that she always have it attached to her person at all times. Even when she wore a dress she would either clip it and fold it into the dress or would wear a belt and clip it to that and tuck it so that no one could see it but she could grab it in an instant. Jordan started walking, not much faster than he would in a slow march toward hell, thinking about how she never would have gone anywhere without it. Lydia was always so careful. She never had too much to drink or experimented with drugs, so he didn’t think that that could be a factor tonight; she wouldn’t have been incapacitated or have any physical or mental inhibition making it impossible to grab the button that was due to alcohol or drugs. He started recounting in is head the clothes that she wore and the number of drinks that she had, neither one pointed to her being incapable of grabbing her panic button, so what the hell had happened? He knelt down for a better look and saw that it was actually in two pieces, the back having fallen out. He figured that it looked like it had been thrown against the brick wall. The only way that that would make any sense would be if she had grabbed for it and someone else beat her to it before she could hit the button. And if that were true then it followed that in order to keep her from pressing it someone must have taken it by force, hurting Lydia in the process. The moment that Jordan’s mind jumped to the worst possible conclusion was the moment that his life jumped from slow motion to fast forward; he started screaming for Derek. 

Derek rushed over, seeing the button lying there, he called for a camera and a sample bag – more evidence, only this time it pointed to a more sinister set of events than anyone anticipated. Jordan stood up feeling the blood pumping through his body, just under the surface of the skin. He saw Scott comforting Kira who was crying, Stiles and Malia talking to agents, giving their accounts, but still looking shaken and terrified, no matter how hard they were working to keep calm and speak clearly. The sound of sirens was the only thing he could really make out over the blood rushing in his ears. He couldn’t begin to fathom how she had managed to disappear with so many secret service agents everywhere. It felt like seconds since he first noticed Malia returning to their square alone, before he was watching Boyd grab onto Reyes body like he could will her to live just by shouting her name. How could the night have gone to shit so suddenly?

That’s when he grabbed Ennis, who was speaking to another agent, giving his account of what happened, and Jordan just lost it. He threw him up against the wall of the building, “Where the fuck is she?! You were supposed to protect her and you let her go?! Did they fucking PAY you off or are you in on it for a percentage of the ransom?! Where is she?! Where is she?! WHERE IS SH-?”

He was holding Ennis up around the neck, attempting to bash his head in against the wall. Agents pulled him off of Ennis while he was still screaming, still demanding where Lydia was, countless scenarios running through his head. He’d never felt so helpless than he did in this moment. Ennis was leaning over, massaging his neck, looking furious, but after a moment he gave Jordan another look, one that showed how ashamed he felt. He didn’t need Jordan to say what everyone was already thinking; that his misidentification of Lydia, of the person who had been wearing similar clothes, had been what misdirected the other agents from finding the real Lydia, giving the kidnappers that much more time to get away. He looked away from Jordan, covering the guilt on his face, and went back to talking to the agent, coughing and still trying to catch his breath.

Derek pulled Jordan off to the side. “Jordan, what the fuck?! You are still an agent, even if you aren’t on her official detail. Agent Kali is taking her friends back home with a few other agents, but right now we need you here with your game face on. Break’s over. You were the first person to notice she was gone. We need to get your official statement, if you saw anything weird or odd, and then we need your help finding her. We don’t know much, but we know it wasn’t an inside job. The shooting of Agent Reyes looked to be done spur of the moment, probably out of surprise, which is why they didn’t get a clean shot and thankfully it looks like she’ll live. The panic button found by the wall and no tire marks suggest they dragged her stumbling out of the alleyway, but were met with an already running vehicle. This looks like it was done off the cuff by idiots who certainly aren’t professionals which only increases her chances of being found sooner rather than later. The tire marks we have found, rounding the corner don’t necessarily narrow down the vehicle search, past it being a van possibly, but police are working to get all cars off of the roads, setting up checkpoints every few miles, all of D.C. is in gridlock right now. We will find her Jordan. We need you at Command, ready to work; you’re no help to us beating the shit out of other agents who are probably going to lose their job anyway. Got it?” Derek didn’t even wait for a response, just shoved him away from him and walked towards the group of agents he had left when he had to help pull Jordan off of Ennis.

Jordan stood there for a moment catching his breath, willing his mind to calm down so that he could focus. Suddenly the memory of being seven years-old, learning that both his parents had died and that he would be living with his grandparents full time rushed to the front of his mind. He had cried for hours in his grandfather’s lap, his grandfather stroking his back calming him, not bothering to hold back tears of his own for the loss of his son and daughter-in-law. Finally, hours later and completely exhausted, Jordan had asked his grandfather what he should do, he meant in terms of what was expected of him in that moment, but his grandfather had taken the question much more seriously than that. He had told him to get to work; to make his parents proud by not wasting a moment wishing for a different outcome. Jordan took it to heart and his lifelong dream of continuing his parents’ service to their country began that day. The devastation of losing Lydia was threatening to overwhelm him now, but he knew what he had to do. He would not rest until she was safe in his arms again. He had promised her that the safest place was by his side and he intended to make it right once again. His grandfather’s voice resonated in his brain once again; it was time to get to work. 

***

The first thing Lydia noticed as she fought her way back to consciousness was the general ache and stiffness over her entire body. She tried to open her eyes, but sleep kept pulling them closed, like her brain was operating too slowly to follow through with that command, so she decided to focus on moving all of her appendages first. She tried to stretch her arms when the pain in her shoulder surged and she attempted to scream, but what came out sounded like a quiet gasp. Her lips had been duct taped, but that seal was broken with the least amount effort the moment she opened her mouth at the shock of pain in her shoulder. Thus, just moments after coming to consciousness, she had hit her first lucky break with the duct tape. Everyone knew it was not even close to being strong enough to seal someone’s mouth closed, well clearly not everyone knew. She tried comforting herself by telling herself that she was dealing with amateurs, but that thought, the reality of her situation beginning to set in, was almost enough to send her into a panic. But the tape also signaled to her that something wasn’t right, which the pain was reiterating. The tape, however, signaled danger. 

She tried just moving her fingers, but found her wrists her bound, tightly by ropes, in front of her. Her breathing became fast and shallow at that point, real panic setting in, and her heart began to pound in her chest. Then she tried wiggling her toes, moving as little as possible to keep from moving her shoulder again. She found her feet bound at the ankles by rope, but looser than her wrists so that she could actually move her legs apart somewhat. The realization that she was bound and lying on an unknown floor with a horrible headache and an even worse pain in her shoulder, leaving her essentially immobile, made the panic inside her overcome any sleepiness and her brain slammed into overdrive. Tears streamed down her face as she tried to scream again for help, finding her throat sore and dry, making it impossible to make much sound at all beyond gasps, huffs, and cracked, pained sounds. She cried, heaving deep gasps, pressing her face into the musty carpet until even her eyes dried and she was unable to even produce tears. It felt like hours to her, just picturing every worst case scenario her mind could imagine. The pain in her shoulder still hadn’t subsided. Finally, as she cried herself into exhaustion, she started to feel more level-headed. Still shaking and scared, she decided that it was time for her to stop feeling sorry for herself and figure out where the hell she was. 

From the restraints and duct tape she knew that she had been kidnapped and she didn’t want any attention from them yet, so the first thing was to deal with her shoulder. She was lying on her side, the full weight of her body on that shoulder, and it felt like it was at a funny angle, as if the arm had been pulled out of the socket. She didn’t know how long she was lying on it like that so her plan was to at least get her body weight off of it and go from there. She readied herself, counted to three, and in one motion, clasping her hands together trying not to scream lest she call attention to herself, she rolled on her back, then away from the wall and onto her other side. She felt the shoulder pop back into place, another incredibly lucky moment for her. She then felt the subsequent fire spread through her entire arm and shoulder as she regained feeling from that part of her that had fallen asleep from being in such an awkward position. The entire time she was making silent screams as the pain overwhelmed her, shaking with silent crying. She was able to keep quiet except for just a few moans whenever the pain rolled in like waves, but after a few minutes the pain finally began to subside. She was breathing heavily from relief and felt exhausted from just that effort. 

Gasping and shaking still, she started to look around the room. It was devoid of any furniture, just the carpet and a bundle of fabric of some sort, possibly a blanket, lying in the corner. There was a door in the corner and a small window very close to the ceiling. The only light coming into the room was blocked by the cheap plastic blinds across the window, making the room rather dark. Her shoes had been taken from her, as had all of her jewelry she had been wearing at the party. She started to wonder how long ago that was, retracing her steps through what she could remember. Thinking about it made her head hurt, but as soon as she started to try, the memories slowly it came back to her. 

She remembered going to the bar with Malia and then running to the bathroom, in a rush because she wanted to help Malia carry their drinks back to the couch where they were sitting. She had bumped into some guy while in her haste to get to the bathroom and get out, she didn’t even look into his face, just threw a hasty “sorry, excuse me!” in his general direction.

Before she had even pushed the door open, however, that’s when she had felt one arm wrap around her waist and the other arm grab her head and a hand cover her mouth to keep her from screaming. Whoever it was strong enough to lift her completely off of her feet and the next thing she knew she was outside. She had tried to grab the door frame as she was pulled out of the door, but he had jerked her forcefully; the pain in her fingers distracted her momentarily. She heard yelling from someone who seemed far away from them. She tried to grab her panic button but the arm closest to it was pinned to her side by her abductor’s arm and she tried to use her other arm to grab it off of her jeans, but her arm had to cross over her body to get it off of her opposite hip and she fumbled as she struggled to pull away from her attacker. Her actions were noticed and he threw her onto the ground yelling, “What the hell are you doing?!” In the next moment he grabbed her panic button, looked at it with mild curiosity, and threw it down the alley. Just as she heard a car horn beeping, everything went dark. He must have knocked her out at that point. 

Lying on the floor, reliving the events, Lydia found herself tearing up again, fully realizing the epic proportions of just how terrible the situation was. She was breathing hard, terrified by how quickly her life had been turned upside down in such a devastating way. How long had it taken everyone to notice that she hadn’t come back to the bathroom when she should have? Surely they would be looking for her by now. The duct tape, her hands tied in front of her, and her loosely tied ankles suggested that her abductors were amateurs and/or idiots so she tried comforting herself with the thought that her rescue team had to be just minutes away from rescuing her. Tears fell down her cheeks as she thought about her mother, how worried she would be for her missing daughter. Lydia took comfort knowing that her mom wouldn’t have even been thinking about the political implications, just doing whatever was necessary to find her daughter. She thought about Jordan, about wanting his arms around her to comfort her. Thinking of Jordan helped calm her down; she was sure Jordan would be looking for her, so she planned to match his commitment to her, she would make it easier for him to find her. She would not lie there waiting for someone to save her; she would get out of there on her own and find Jordan. He’d be looking for her anyway, of this, she was sure. 

***  
Jordan had never been summoned to the Oval Office before, agents are usually dictated to by their supervisor, not the President herself. In fact, the closest he had ever been was when he was in the residence and that was only ever with Lydia. Since he was military he was required to dress in full uniform while in the White House, meaning he had gone home to change before answering the summons. It was the first time he had taken more than five minutes away from searching for Lydia and the first time he had showered since she’d been taken. Jordan was escorted through the West Wing and into the Oval by Allison, who looked as wrecked and tired as Jordan felt. Everyone was on edge and the usually bustling and noisy offices were quiet and somber, but tense and hurried with an undercurrent of anxiety, where everyone was on edge. 

President Martin spent the first ten minutes of their meeting berating him for being distracted from his job of keeping her safe. He stood at attention the entire time, not at all frustrated by her accusations, even agreeing with her; he blamed himself too. He should have been more attentive, he should have been more careful, more present, and more watchful; he shouldn’t have let this happen. He should never have considered himself as anything other than her protection. She had been informed that Lydia had known about Jordan and that they were actually dating. He had been fully honest in his interview and everything had been included in the file that was delivered to the President. After she was done haranguing him, she looked tired, worn down, but also as if the weight on her shoulders was just that much less than when she had started. Jordan understood; had he not also gotten extremely angry and taken it out on others? 

He sat down with her and apologized as sincerely as he could and expounded on the fact that though he couldn’t go back in time, he could make sure that he helped them find her faster. He explained to her everything that they were doing to find Lydia. Though she had been told all of this before, it seemed she was actually more comforted knowing that it was Jordan who was helping in the search for her daughter. After that she asked him to call her every few hours for any update that he might have. It was clear then that any professional barrier that was between them was gone now. 

Just as he was about to leave, the Director of the Secret Service was swiftly shown into the Oval Office, several agents following him. They escorted the President to the Situation Room, Jordan, not having the necessary clearance, waited for her return, hoping that there was good news. It happened in a flash, but the President had told him to stay she would tell him what she could when she returned. He felt like he waited an eternity, but when she returned and he saw her face, he felt like it had been twice that long. She showed him a picture that was faxed to the Deputy Chief of Staff’s secretary’s office. The fax was sent anonymously through an online service. The email used to send the fax was last used on a computer with an IP Address matching the Boston Public Library. The exact computer used was unknown and the fax was placed hours after the user logged into the online service which meant that there was at least a six hour window that investigators used to match with security camera footage. Hundreds of people used the computers during that time and facial recognition was difficult given there was only one camera angle with which to work. It was impossible to pinpoint a possible suspect given no other information. 

Jordan couldn’t help but think of how smart it was for them to have sent it as a fax. An email from an anonymous user could have been more easily traced and could have easily been swallowed in junk mail or even just in the thousands of emails the office gets every day. The picture was a silhouette of a woman reading what looked to be a newspaper – what looked to be The Washington Post. As Jordan looked closer it became more obvious, through tiny details, that the woman was Lydia. Her blouse was the same as the one she was wearing to the club and the newspaper had that day’s date, on it, supposedly trying to let them know that she was still alive and/or possibly for verification. Below the photo was a ransom note. The letters were cut out of print literature, as if they had taken cues from a bad movie, and asked for an upfront payment before making any promises to release Lydia.

“Lydia Martin alive for now  
$10 million in cash left in trashcan in Franklin Square on the corner of St George St. and E Newton St  
2 days”

After Jordan finished looking over the photo and the note he looked up to see President Martin, tears in her eyes, shaking with fury. She had been strong in the Sit Room while they briefed her, but the moment she was alone with Jordan, it was as if the dam had broken all at once, having been briefed on these details, she knew the likelihood of finding Lydia alive was dwindling with time, but at least for now she was still alive. He set the copy of the photo on the coffee table and sat next to her on the couch. She didn’t cry and he didn’t dare touch her, but he reiterated his promises to her that he had made earlier. They were going to find Lydia and bring her home and they would not rest until that was done. She thanked him for being there for both her and her daughter, and then shuffled him out of the office so that she could head to a meeting with the Vice President and the cabinet. For Jordan, this meant it was time to get back to work.

After having been interrogated for hours and drained of any and all information he had, Jordan was now allowed in on FBI and Secret Service joint briefings. At any time, if anyone had questions regarding Lydia’s personality or last known whereabouts, they would direct them to Jordan. After receiving the photo, this briefing felt like the first time they were able to move beyond speculation. If anything was obvious, it was the fact that the abductors were never going for the money, but were just using it to stall for time. The Secret Service and FBI had surmised at this point that the abductors were amateurs who had no idea that they had taken the President’s daughter, biting off more than they could chew, but still deciding to run with it. When the Agency had first been looking for them, they had assumed them to be professionals due to the nature of the victim, but the clues so far led them to believe otherwise. Jordan had told them everything about his relationship with Lydia. He knew he was a prime suspect just because of his proximity to her. He admitted that she had known who he was from the beginning and that they had been hiding this information together. He didn’t want to lie just in case he left out a single, crucial detail. They then looked into her friends, assuming it had to be done by someone who knew her habits and her way of thinking, but both of these leads were immediately rebuked given the evidence found at the crime scene and the recent ransom note.  
The letter confirmed that the amateurs were totally unprepared and incredibly foolish. Unfortunately, this made things worse for Lydia. Amateurs tended to panic when faced with this level of stress. This made it more likely Lydia would be killed long before they could get to her, regardless if they followed the kidnappers’ demands. It also made things better, like the fact that amateurs, and in this case, complete idiots, tended to stick to what they knew. They had a search out looking for other suspects and victims of kidnapping cases that had any similar qualities to Lydia’s. Jordan also learned that every law enforcement officer and National Guardsperson in the New England Area was on high alert, ready to be on duty, the moment they located their suspects. They were trying to keep it out of the press as much as possible, but the media had taken note of the fact that only Massachusetts and the surrounding states seemed to be on high alert, which could force the suspects to flee the area, lessening the chance of finding Lydia sooner so all other details were labeled top secret and were kept from the press at all costs. 

*** 

Lydia stilled when she heard voices above her, getting louder like people were shouting. Scared, she pressed the duct tape still hanging from her upper lip, back across both of her lips. She heard them pounding down the steps and she closed her eyes with a fierce hope they would still think she was asleep. The continued noise above her told her that either more people were in the house or that there was possibly a TV on somewhere. Lydia was trying to catalog any clues whatsoever that might help her get out of wherever she was, and a TV told her that she might be able to figure out where she was if she could catch a glimpse the news or weather or something. When the door flew open, reverberating when it slammed against the wall, she couldn’t help clinching in on herself in utter terror. Even if that hadn’t gotten their attention, it wouldn’t have mattered. 

“Holy shit. Jen, it is her! We are so fucked. This was supposed to be just some rich bitch that we would get a couple million for and get the fuck out! What the fuck are we supposed to do now?!” The younger man looked equal parts stunned and pissed as he stood in the doorway looking from Lydia to the older woman standing beside him. The older woman, Jen as Lydia heard the younger man say her name, wore a mask, but the man didn’t seem to be trying to hide himself at all. Lydia logged this away as another clue that helped her to surmise that they were new to this, on top of their use of duct tape and poorly tied knots to bind her wrists and ankles. 

“Shut the fuck up, you idiot! And put on your damn mask! Then get your ass over here and help me get her in position. Jesus, it’s like you’ve gotten even more fucking useless in the past 12 hours, which is really fucking saying something.” Jen stalked toward Lydia like a predator does her prey and rolled Lydia on to her back, not taking any care to be gentle at all. She stood up, looked over at her partner, and saw that the man was still standing there, though he had put on his mask at her behest. “What the fuck is the matter with you?! Get the fuck over here and get this shit ready!”

“No fucking way. We can’t do this…no…no…no fucking way. This one is totally out of our league Jen. What the fuck are we doing? What happens when they find us? They’ll hang us for treason, shoot us using a firing squad, or some other sick shit!” Lydia, still peeking between her eyelashes saw the man was pacing in front of the door at this point, his hand grasping at his head. 

“Listen to me asshole. We go through this kidnapping just like all of the others. We never got caught then and we won’t get caught now. We just gotta be careful and do it like we always do it. Then we dump the body, get the money, and disappear before they knew it was us. They probably think some terrorist group has got her, no idea it’s just a small time operation run out of the damn suburbs. Now get your shit together and if you’re not going to help me move her, at least go get the fucking camera.”

The man was only too ready for an excuse to leave the room and bolted as soon as he was ordered to do so. Jen walked behind Lydia’s head and grabbed her under her armpits, dragging her to the corner of the room. She propped her up against the wall, the window above her left shoulder and then slapped Lydia across the face as hard as she could. Lydia was lucky that she only gasped and pitched forward, her duct tape and wrist binds staying in place as if she hadn’t been messing with them.

“That’s right you little fucker. I know your ass is awake and now you know that I’m not fucking around.” Jen had grabbed Lydia’s face and forced her to look up at her, Lydia’s hair falling all around her face. “I’m going to give you simple instructions and if you don’t follow them exactly, I will hit you again, each time harder until you learn to fucking listen. I don’t give a shit that you’re the President’s daughter and you need to know that no one is coming to save you. You will be worth millions and if you’re good, you get to go home in one piece. If you’re bad, I’ll let you pick the first piece that we send to your lovely mother. That’s as nice as I get, so don’t fuck around. Okay?” Tears were streaming down Lydia’s face as she stared into Jen’s eyes, no sign of a bluff showing. Jen had a huge clump of Lydia’s hair in her hand, making it difficult for her to nod her head, but Jen got the idea and knocked her head into the wall when she stood up and walked back to the door. Lydia hadn’t seen it before, but there was a messenger bag by the door that Jen reached into and pulled out a Washington Post newspaper. 

The man walked in the room again and made quick work of setting up a tripod and camera, not looking at Lydia. Jen reached on her belt and pulled out a switchblade as she stalked toward Lydia. Lydia could only brace herself against the wall, praying they weren’t going to start lobbing off pieces of her. She had hoped her nod conveyed her desperation to follow all of their orders, but now she feared they might not have understood. She was frozen in fear, her entire body trembling as Jen knelt in front of her. She grabbed her wrists and when Lydia whimpered, she gave her a look to warn her from further noise.

"I’m going to cut the rope on your wrists and you’re not going to fucking move or try anything or I’m going to start cutting off fingers. Then you are going to hold open this newspaper so that the front and back pages are pointing toward the camera and you’re going to tilt your head down and stay very still. Okay?” Jen waited for another head nod from Lydia who understood her tone to be every bit as threatening as it was meant to be. She cut the ropes on her wrists and held the newspaper out to Lydia.

They could have only been there for a few moments, but to Lydia it felt like hours, each moment more excruciating than the last. She caught a glimpse of the date on the paper and figured out that she had last seen Jordan two days ago. They snapped a few pictures, then the man packed up the camera just as quickly as he had unpacked it and Jen retied her wrists, much tighter than they had been before they had come in the room. Jen had helped Lydia up enough to half carry her, half let her hop to the door. She practically shoved Lydia into the bathroom and though it was difficult, Lydia was grateful for the chance to relieve herself and steal a gulp of water from the sink. She didn’t even care that Jen hadn’t closed the door, but was standing menacingly outside of it. When Jen got tired of waiting for her to wash her hands she grabbed her shoulders and half walked, half threw, her into her holding room, Lydia’s own personal prison. Lydia landed on the carpeted floor with a thump with more than a hint of her shoulder pain haunting her. She looked up and saw a pillow had been added to the bundle of fabric, what she now recognized as a blanket. Though she still didn’t know exactly how long she had been there, it was even less of a comfort that they had brought bedding, expecting her to at least spend one night there. It was even worse thinking about what they would be doing with the photographs. She thought of her mother seeing them, not knowing if she would be able to tell if her daughter was alive. She crawled as best she could to the blanket, muffled her sobs in the pillow, and curled up under the blanket. 

*** 

They had gotten several hundred hits on cases that had characteristics that matched Lydia’s. There seemed to be no end to the number of kidnapping cases that had used photos of the victims holding up newspapers trying to verify the dates and thus deny their falsification. They had to start putting the cases in order of timeline and try to identify which ones were considered copy cats of others and which had been solved, who had been released from prison, and finally, who was or had been in the New England area, a huge area that included two major cities and incredible amount of rural land. It was tedious work that required lots of manpower and hours they didn’t have, but it was the best lead they had so far. 

After far too many hours had passed, the Secret Service had it narrowed down to just over 20 cases that could be a possible lead. It was Jordan who saw similarities between several of them where they were then able to narrow it down to 12 suspects. They sent undercover agents in unmarked vehicles to survey neighborhoods looking for the identified suspects’ various properties, narrowing down areas. Jordan demanded to be sent to a suburb outside of Boston, in an area of rural Massachusetts that he had helped to identify as a likely candidate, but was initially told that he was too recognizable and wouldn’t be able to go. He was forced to stay behind and help continue narrowing down likely candidates. 

***

When Lydia woke up, hardly feeling rested, she could feel her heart pounding. Anxiety and panic were threatening to take over her and she was desperate to get her breathing under control and calm the terror she felt bubbling up inside of her. While practicing deep breathing, she thought back to Jordan; what would he say if he were here with her? At first she teared up because the feeling of missing him threatened to overwhelm her, but then she saw his green eyes in her mind and it felt like he was there with her. She calmed her breathing so she could focus on remembering what they had discussed when he had helped her train, when she had said that she didn’t want to feel weak anymore. 

At first they had just worked on fighting off an attacker that came after her, but after several weeks she had asked him about roleplaying specific, darker, scenarios. He had resisted at first, wanting her to not feel like she had to think about those possibilities. Eventually, she was able to convince him that in order to feel really comfortable she wanted to be ready for any scenario.

"Ok then Lydia." She could hear is voice again in her head now. "Let’s say you’ve been taken and you wake up and have no idea where you are. First thing to do is relax. Take deep breaths because now is when you have to be really strong. If they haven’t hurt you and they keep leaving you alone in a room, even if they leave you tied up, you can use all of this against them, but you have to focus. There’s a checklist of exactly what to do." 

Lydia felt her head clearing from the overwhelming sense of alarm and panic and she felt incredibly grateful that she had asked Jordan to teach her to fight. She had had asked him because she had wanted to be strong, not helpless. Having security by her at all times always made her feel so small and she wanted to feel powerful and confident for a change. When she asked about being kidnapped specifically, Jordan’s whole demeanor had changed and he explained that it was that scenario exactly that the Secret Service used as a training module for new recruits, so he knew it well. He shared with her everything that he thought might help her. 

"First you need to do what you can to figure out where you are. Anything on the walls or floor around you can give you a hint. It could be a newspaper clipping or a poster. Next you need to try checking the window. See if you can spot a landmark or a street sign. If you are tied up and can’t do any of that, that’s ok. If the door is locked and you can’t escape, that’s also ok. There are other things you can do. You can start working on getting your captors to treat you like a human being; don’t let them forget your humanity. Make sure to get a good look at their faces. Remind them that you are a person. Keep them talking and make sure you tell them as many personal details about yourself as possible – your age, your favorite color, your schooling, anything to make them relate to you and see you as more than a target or an acquisition. This may make them hesitate before killing you, but it can also give you insights into their behavior. If they treat you nicely then you know they need you alive. If they treat like a human and with care, then you know that they need you alive and probably for a lengthy amount of time, possibly for a ransom. Pay attention to what time you feed every day and if there is someone watching the door all of the time – these could be weak spots that you can use to your advantage to escape. Lydia, above all else you must try to cooperate and make their lives as easy as possible. Do not try to escape unless you have no alternative. It is too risky to rely on whether or not they might hurt you and there may never be the perfect opportunity. Lydia, I can’t stress this enough, we are the Secret Service; we will find you, so just sit tight, cooperate, and know that I won’t rest until I have you safe in my arms again." 

Lydia felt herself nod her head against the pillow as she remembered his words. He had sat facing her as he explained the scenario to her, his face more serious and determined than she had ever seen it. For just a moment she saw a glimpse of the trained soldier and Special Agent that he was. She had felt so safe with him and she needed him so badly right now in this moment. She balled up her fists, took a few deep breaths, and strengthened her resolve to be with him once again. She would cooperate and do everything she could to stay alive, but if he was out there searching for her she couldn’t just sit tight.

She sat up, her head swimming and still a little cloudy with exhaustion and apprehension. She was nervous to move from her spot. Were they watching her? Was someone at the door listening in for any movement? She looked around the room. No cameras that she could see were apparent and the door was closed, no other windows in the room beside the small one close to the ceiling. She looked down at her hands and ankles, still bound by rope. She gathered the blanket and pillow in her arms and rolled in a very awkward fashion toward the window. She balled the blanket up and put the pillow on top of it, against the wall, under the window. She could only see some grass from where she was sitting on the floor, though it confirmed what she already knew to be true, that she was in a basement. Standing up was harder, not just because she was bound at the ankles, but she was much weaker than she realized. She wobbled a bit and clutched her stomach as she felt the rumbles of hunger rip through her, not remembering the last time that she had eaten. 

She braced herself against the wall to steady herself. She then stepped up on the pillow so that her eyes could see just over the window sill if she arched her neck. She could see asphalt and a car’s tire just past a little patch of grass. Just past the trunk of the car, she could see what she thought was another house a little ways away, a small one, much like a mobile home. She tried the window, grasping against the edges, pushing hard, but it was sealed shut, as if it had never opened in the first place. She turned around to look for something to break the glass, but was startled by the sound of footsteps above her, signaling someone coming down the stairs. For just a moment she was paralyzed against the wall by fear of them finding her like this. She threw herself to the ground in a rush and in one swift movement shoved the pillow under her head and hugged the folded up blanket like she was cuddling it. She hoped her position would look more pathetic and less like she had been plotting her escape. She didn’t want to anger them before she knew what their plans for her were. The door opened just as she was able to steady her breathing, but her heart was still pounding hard in her chest.

The man entered the room carrying a small tray in one hand. To Lydia, this signaled that he didn’t find her a threat. It’s not like he had her stand at the opposite side of the room while he entered, brandishing a weapon to scare her. This was good; underestimating her was something Lydia could use to her advantage. He barely looked at her as he set the tray down by the door, wearing the mask. He turned and left the room, slamming the door behind him and hustling up the steps. He didn’t seem to care that she had removed the duct tape from her mouth. It had fallen off as she had slept, probably because of how sweaty the tension of her last encounter with them had made her. Lydia took a few breaths before she crawled on her elbows and knees over to the tray. Two slices of bread, an apple, and a glass of water never looked so good to Lydia and she wolfed it down, not caring the slices of bread were the heels of the loaf. After she ate, she sat against the wall breathing hard just from the exertion of eating with such ferocity. It did little to stem the tide of hunger, but from where she was sitting, she realized she could hear the TV or possibly the radio playing above and to the right of her. 

She refocused her attention to thinking about her situation. The TV playing and the fact that she could see at least one other house out of the window told her she was in the suburbs, not in the middle of nowhere, and that other people could be just feet away. She also thought about how the man had entered her room. He hadn’t even knocked before entering. He wasn’t concerned about her being a physical threat to him. Pretending to be weak and then making a run for it could be her best shot at freedom, especially considering that she wouldn’t have to go far. One house in the area surely had to have a phone that she could use. She traced the emergency number that she had been forced to learn when her mother had first been elected and the Secret Service became her guardians with her finger on the floor. She knew it well and she knew that within minutes of dialing the number they would have her location and be there soon after. In her head this planning helped to stave off the worry and anxiety that fed the fear she felt stem from the pit of her stomach. 

*** 

“Agent Parrish.” The voice that called, more like demanded, his name was unmistakable in its authority and Jordan didn’t hesitate to stand at attention, prepared to face Director Mahealani. The Director of the Secret Service turned and walked away, beckoning Jordan to follow him. Jordan had been at his desk pouring over maps, marking off the targets that were located across the country that had been searched and eliminated as suspects. 

Jordan was shown through a door that opened into a large classroom, packed with about twenty-five agents, and other specialists all there to be a part of the extraction team. Jordan recognized many of them, but was usually seated at the tables beside them, not standing in front of them being asked to answer their questions. His statement after Lydia’s kidnapping had included in the ever growing file on the kidnapping and he knew that everyone in this room knew about his relationship with her. When he stepped into the room he felt a tangible increase in the tension exuded from his colleagues and a silence sweep across the room. He wouldn’t be surprised if he found out that many of them blamed him for the kidnapping; he too believed his relationship hindered his ability to properly protect his protectee. When the Agency had discovered that not only was he in an intimate relationship with Lydia, but that she knew his true identity, many accusations were flung at him, accusing him of having a compromised state of mind. They were all professionals, however, and blaming other Agents was a distraction from catching the real culprits, so any personal regrets or insecurities Jordan felt had to be pushed to the side if he was going to do his job effectively.

“Agent Parrish, we understand that you have been tasked with helping to narrow down the search for Bookbag, but as that scope narrows, we have other issues that may arise that we need to be prepared for.” Mahealani was a man of few words, all business all the time, and now was no exception. Jordan could think of no one better equipped to handle a crisis situation of this caliber. Mahealani was young, but he was professional, authoritative, and his leadership style was one that encouraged his employees to work together, be collaborative, since he wasn’t much for hierarchy. If someone was able to contribute, he didn’t care what their rank or experience was, he took ideas from everyone. He had asked Jordan to provide Intel into Lydia’s personality and mindset, subjects toward which he felt this conversation right now were headed. Whether he blamed Jordan or not he never mentioned it and never questioned Jordan's loyalty to the Agency. 

“As we close in on the New England area, Boston area specifically, the chance of them moving increases. They could be watching the news, and though we have tried to keep the media at bay, or even purposefully misinformed, they would have clearly already picked up on our increased presence in the area – information that could easily cause the suspects to feel threatened enough to find another area to inhabit. We don’t know what will happen, if they will take Bookbag with them or not and we don’t know how she will react to that move. If we find the suspects while they are on the move, is she likely to make a run for it or is she more likely to stay low and not make a move? We need to prepare for every scenario, particularly after the money drop incident and we don’t want Bookbag to get hurt in the crosshairs while trying to save her.” Mahealani was addressing everyone, but his questions were directed toward Jordan. 

Jordan thought back to the money drop incident. The suspects had paid some guy to pay some guy to pay some guy to ultimately take the money from the spot designated in the ransom note, but as the Agents traced back to the original contact the trail ran cold with a slew of dead bodies. The Agency and the FBI were watching the area like hawks, waiting for their suspects to make the wrong move. Of course the guy who grabbed the pack was clueless about its contents and even less informed about who the intended target was. He was apprehended as soon as he touched the pack of money, but was just another in what was to become a long list of dead ends. They had since received no more ransom notes; they didn’t even know if the suspects knew what had happened to the money. To them it was just a distraction and a stalling attempt; they weren’t after the real cash yet. Though the Agents had prepared for this possibility, they still had hoped to find out more information from the drop and it was a disappointment when they had gained little more knowledge than before the incident. 

“Agent Parrish, I asked you here to shed some light on what you might think her actions would be in certain instances, even what you think she might be thinking now. We also, as we get closer to identifying a suspect, need to have you on site when we are able to apprehend her. If she runs or if she is in a more compromised mental state, then we might need a familiar face there and we can’t ask that of a civilian or the President.” Jordan nodded his head once in confirmation that he understood what was being asked of him. 

Jordan stepped forward after the introduction by Director Mahealani. “I think Bookbag understands that her best chance at survival is to cooperate. I have seen her handle pressure from the press, exams, professors, and her mother’s position, all without even breaking a sweat. I realize these are scales of sizable differences, but she keeps a calm head even in times when you might expect her emotions to get the better of her. Some might even refer to her as a control freak, someone who obsesses over the need to control every aspect of her life. I think that while they have her in one place, we all know they need to keep her alive, and she has probably discovered that to be true for herself. So, in order to feel in control she would most likely try to cooperate with her kidnappers, make them see her as a person, control the conversation. Another way she might fight for control would be to plan an escape, but she probably wouldn’t try unless the opportunity was clear and obvious. If they tried to move her, she might take that to be her best chance of escaping so there is that risk. For her to take that risk would require her to act in a spur of the moment manner, not really a natural strength for her. Her go to method of stress relief is not to panic, but to breathe, make lists, plan, and manipulate anything she can to feel that sense of control – it’s her form of gaining strength and confidence. Obviously this situation is unique, but she isn’t a child or emotionally immature. My best guess is that right now, she is keeping as calm as possible, cooperating fully, and thinking rationally.”

Jordan could hear people taking notes as he spoke, see people nodding their heads, trying to understand her mindset. He looked to Mahealani, matching the somber look on his face. Jordan felt helpless, like everything was just a guess and he should have been doing more to help Lydia. Before he was excused out of the classroom he answered a few more questions about what her plans might be if she were to run, but as they had not quite figured out what type of environment in which she was being held it was all speculation, just more planning in the dark. He left with instructions on who to contact so that he could suit up to go on the next surveying mission when the time arrived.

Back at his desk, pouring over the list of possible suspects, it occurred to them that they hadn’t filtered these suspects for false ransom notes. They had assumed their suspects hadn’t gone to pick up the money themselves because they had understood how high profile this case was only after sending it, but what if this was their usual MO? Jordan started searching for those details in every single case file. His speed made him look frantic, but he knew what to look for and seen all of those files many times, many of them he knew by heart. Finally, he started piecing together information from several files in which false ransom notes had been sent in order, not to collect the money, but rather to stall in order to glean more information from their victim’s families, allowing them to collect more money more reliably. In one case the suspects had used the false ransom note in order to scare the families into giving more money because they had assumed that one of two of their kidnapped children had already been killed when they had brought police with them to pick the money up from the first drop point. The parents had sent more money to do everything they could to save what they thought had been their last surviving child. In another, the suspects used it as a distraction while they broke into the victims’ homes and robbed them blind before also asking for more money, leaving behind a finger of their child in their ruined home as sign of how serious they were. Jordan’s brow furrowed as he read that particular file. His rage swelled as he thought about the current insidious monsters harming Lydia in anyway. 

As Jordan read through these files he felt a maddening frustration at how none of the suspects had ever been caught. Each file contained a list of possible suspects, but when the motives were always money, it seemed impossible to narrow down the list. As far as he could tell, the victims had little to nothing in common as if they had been taken purely by chance from crowded spaces and always at night. This fit with Lydia’s kidnapping. When she was abducted it was from a crowded club and it was at night. Nothing about the crime suggested that the suspects had been planning on snagging such a high profile target; they weren’t looking for Lydia specifically, it could have been anyone. 

Jordan spent hours poring over witness testimonies trying to identify commonalities between cases that had previously been assumed to be incomparable. Jordan started with suspects that were deemed strangers to the victims, filtering out friends and family. In several of the cases witnesses had reported seeing trucks or vehicles, sometimes officially licensed vehicles and sometimes completely unmarked and unaffiliated with a business at all. The drivers had been reported to being white, though it seemed to alternate between being female or male and always their faces were covered or too hard to see. In each of these cases the vehicle had been found miles away either abandoned or in at least a few cases torched; sometimes the vehicle was never found at all. Jordan began tracking down rental agreements, employee records, anything that might give him names and addresses. After Lydia had been taken, security footage had shown a white van pulling away from the club. The license plate number had been illegible, but the van had been found less than a mile away, identified by two strands of hair found by the forensic specialists. The van had been rented from a shady business that took cash only and that clearly didn’t care to do a background check; it was under a name that lead nowhere, clearly a fake identity. They obtained sketches of the man and woman that had rented the van, but that too had been a dead end. Each of the vans Jordan was able to track down had been rented using fake identities, Jordan was getting closer he could feel it. 

In all of the cases, including Lydia’s, the vehicle was rented by either a white male or white female or sometimes both together. Finally, Jordan hit a lucky break. He was on the phone with a telecommunications business for which the male suspect had been a driver located outside of Phoenix, AZ. The owner of the business sounded irate over the phone because the employee in question was pulled over for a DUI. The truck had been left by the side of the road, but was miles away from any of the areas of business it should have been close to and by the time the owner was able to track it down, it had been robbed and vandalized. Jordan leafed through the police file; there was no record of any DUI, even though the owner repeatedly claimed that he told the police about it. 

Looking through time stamps from various records Jordan was able to piece the story together. The guy using the van had been accepted to work for a telecommunications company and had used the company truck to kidnap his next victim. After switching vehicles (most likely with the help of the female suspect, if they were in fact working together as he suspected they were) he planned to drive to a remote location in order to torch the van, only he must have been drinking and been pulled over for a DUI before getting to his destination. The police wouldn’t have known to be looking for a van if they hadn’t yet been alerted about the kidnapping, especially if it had just happened. Jordan looked up the police records and found two names connected to the incident. Matt Daehler was charged with a DUI, but was bailed out by a Jennifer Blake; she had had to show ID when bailing him out and there was a grimy photocopied picture of it included in the file. Looking at the mugshot of Daehler, the blurry picture of Blake’s ID, and the sketches they had obtained after Lydia’s abduction, it was hard not to see the resemblances. Daehler had been finger printed after being picked up for his DUI and since he was already in the system for a slew of crimes he had committed as a Juvenile, Jordan knew it was a real name. The last known address for Daehler was a small house in a rural community, two hours outside of Boston. Daehler had never shown up for his hearing and was still considered at large for the DUI. He knew the evidence was thin, desperate for any clue that would lead him to Lydia, Jordan felt like he was grasping at straws. He also knew, however that there were enough red flags here that he couldn’t wait for more evidence; Matt Daehler and Jennifer Blake were the number one suspects and all suspects need to be eliminated in order to narrow down the search for Lydia. He grabbed the case file and sprinted to his superior’s office. 

*** 

Lydia could hear other voices from time to time, but the voices she heard now were getting louder than the TV. It sounded like people shouting at one another and she didn’t know if that meant there were more people or if it was still just the man and woman whom she had dealt with previously. She heard a door slam and the shouting end. She had been getting chilly and thinking about scooting back across the floor to the blanket and pillow, but her attention was stolen by the sounds of heavy feet coming down the stairs. She sat up, rigid back against the wall, staring at the door. The door opened and banged against the wall as it swung wide, again without a knock or any other preamble. The man was there, huffing and looking so angry she scooted away from him, afraid that any wrong move would cause him to breathe fire. He stared at her before walking over to pick up the tray, but straightened before he did so. 

“Bathroom?” he said it more like a demand or a grunt than a question, but Lydia just nodded her head and said, “Please,” with a scratchy voice. She was more afraid of not getting this chance now than making him angrier by imposing it on him later, so she took her chance when he asked. He walked until he was within arm’s reach and bent down and grabbed her under the elbows. He pulled her up and half-carried her across the narrow hallway to the bathroom. She stood on her own feet, still bound at the ankle and he turned his back. It was awkward, but it did bring her relief. After getting a drink from the sink, she hopped close enough to the doorway that he noticed her, turned around, and half carried her back to the room. He even put her back against the wall with her pillow and blanket. This thoughtfulness was not lost on her.

“My name is Lydia by the way. I mean I’m sure you already know who I am, but I just wanted you to also know that I’m not just the President’s daughter, I’m also in medical school to become a doctor; I want to help people.” She said this with as much softness in her voice as she could muster. She wanted him to listen and to empathize with her. 

The man already had the tray in one hand and was headed out the door, but once she had finished, he turned toward her. He bent down and looked her straight in the eyes and said, “Shut the fuck up.” He walked out and slammed the door behind him. He stomped up the stairs, but at least he didn’t hurt her and she knew he heard her. Lydia breathed a bit easier after he left, but she still felt like the adrenaline was pumping hard in her chest. She snuggled up with her blanket and pillow, hoping that the next time she saw him, she could try again. 

*** 

Jordan was sent with a huge team that included ground and air troops. They had looked at his evidence and deemed his hypothesis to not only be logical, but also that his reasoning was sound, and that these suspects had to be the most likely candidates. His instructions had him fly coach to the Boston airport dressed in civilian, casual wear, and rent whatever car they had available for him at the airport. He went alone in a red pickup truck directly from the airport toward the direction of their address. His focus was so set that he could do little else but drive. He didn’t listen to music or pay any attention to speed limit signs, local police all new the make and model of his vehicle, as well as the license plate number. Though he was physically alone, the entire agency was behind him. They had helicopters and planes on standby, and all local police officers were monitoring traffic patterns throughout all of the suburbs in the area which that had zeroed in on, setting up random traffic stops throughout. They had an entire SWAT team on call, which could be at the house in under a minute, as well as a team of EMS workers and ambulances and firefighters, all ready to deal with whatever came next. Jordan’s directive was simple and straightforward. He was to scope out the area first, see how many civilians were in the area, and get the lay of the land. They were looking for any sign of anything out of the ordinary, such as houses with the windows boarded up, signs of traps, etc. When he radioed in that the area was all clear, that’s when the SWAT team would follow him in and get Bookbag out as safely and efficiently as possible. Sending Jordan in to do an initial sweep was not only standard protocol, but he was chosen specifically to look for signs of Lydia, ones that only he might recognize. 

*** 

Lydia had tried the window again, had tried scooting around the room, looking of any method of escape besides the door, and generally anything else to keep her mind busy. She couldn’t sleep for more than a few minutes at a time without waking up from either a nightmare or from fear and panic. The man had come down at least two more times to bring her food and she knew at least a full two days had passed since she had been there. She felt weak and hungry all of the time. She had tried to speak with him, but every time he had just cut her off, slamming the door behind him. She really needed a shower and she missed Jordan and she missed her mother most of all. Every time she thought about her, she started to panic and cry all over again. She worried that she would never see her again and she felt her heart break at the very idea. Instead of focusing on her mother, she continued working on the ropes at her feet. It seemed stupid of them that they tied her arms in front of her, but she was so grateful that they had. She picked at the rope until she was able to completely untie her feet. When she retied the ropes around her ankles, she tied them much looser and used a slipknot technique that she had learned in Girl Scouts years ago. All she would have to do was give the ropes a little bit of pressure, which would then give her enough slack to pull one foot out, effectively freeing her from the ropes. She retied the ropes, but found it did little to distract her. As Lydia started to feel the panic rise in her chest again, she heard shouting coming from upstairs. As they were coming down the steps, she heard Jen yell, “And that’s why we gotta move her, you idiot, BEFORE the police narrow the search down to our fucking backyard!”

The door swung open with a smash against the wall as both the man and woman entered the room. “Alight, alright, I get it! We’ll put her in the wagon and go to my grandma’s.” The man was shouting at Jen, but moving toward Lydia. She looked up at them with wild, fearful eyes; they were planning on forcing her to leave where they were now, which could be very bad for her. On one hand, it meant that the Secret Service must be close to saving her and her kidnappers must have gotten wind of it from the news. On the other hand, moving her would mean that they would have to start the search for her all over again. Lydia didn’t have time to prepare before the man was picking her up from underneath her arms. Jen had pulled out a roll of duct tape for her mouth.

“Wait,” Lydia choked out, desperately trying to keep her voice steady. “Please don’t drug me again. I felt awful and it makes everything so much worse and I promise I won’t scream or try to run away. I promise.” She was shaking her head, begging them not to do that to her again.

Jen straightened up and got directly in Lydia’s face. “Fine. But I swear to God, I will not hesitate to lob all of your fingers off if you so much as blink too frequently, you understand me?” She had shown Lydia the knife again and Lydia’s heart went into overdrive.

“I promise I won’t make a sound. Please.” She pleaded once more, tears streaming down her face while being held up by the man.

“Then start right now. He’s gonna take you to the car because we gotta move your spoiled ass. Keep your head down and don’t make a fucking sound.” Jen walked away grabbing her bag, after Lydia nodded her understanding. Lydia steeled herself while preparing to be half dragged across the floor and up the stairs of the house. She tried to help him as much as she could but she didn’t want to chance the ropes falling off before she was ready. Her Achilles heels banged on the step as he half-dragged her up them, his chest to her back, him carrying her from under her arms. Jen followed them up the stairs looking furious, but wasn’t really paying attention to Lydia, looking at her phone. 

Lydia took a deep breath; this was her chance. As the man got to the top of the stairs, Lydia was able to find solid footing on the ledge overhanging the first step. Jen didn’t even see it coming. In one swift and powerful motion, Lydia thrust her shoulders and back into the man, raising her legs and feet above waist height and smashing her feet into Jen’s chest. Jen, taken by complete surprise, toppled backwards down the steps. The man, who was just strong enough to take the brunt of her body weight when she threw herself backwards without so much as a wobble, hurled her sideways to the ground, and ran after Jen, down the stairs screaming her name. Lydia used her elbow to push herself up off of the ground, pulled her feet apart, thankful he hadn’t thrown her down the stairs after Jen, and slipped one foot out of the rope. She sat completely upright and slipped the other foot out of the ropes, heart pounding in her chest as she heard the man continually screaming the woman’s name. She ripped off the useless duct tape as she awkwardly scrambled to her feet, half limping, still weak from lack of food and exhaustion, and from where her whole side hurt after having been thrown to the ground. She looked around frantically to find her escape. She was in the kitchen, but past the counter there was an open closet, whose open door pointed toward a staircase and she ran that way, hoping for the front door. She used the counter to steady herself and started her awkward limp toward the closet. She hauled herself far enough to make it to the closet door, and she could see the foyer just beyond her reach. 

Before she could make her escape or even breathe a sigh of relief, she heard an angry growl come from the stairwell and could hear the man pounding up the stairs. She knew that in her state she would never be able to outrun him and his anger scared her too much to let herself be caught by him again. At first she thought about hiding in the closet, but when she looked inside she saw something that gave her an even better idea. An old wooden baseball bat was leaning up against the wall, in the corner where the door meets the wall. Without giving herself time to second guess this plan, she sucked in a huge breath and stepped toward the closet with her right foot. She grabbed the bat, her hands still bound, together and turned her back to him. To him, it must have looked like she was running into the closet to hide. In one swift motion she spun toward the man barreling towards her and used both hands to swing the bat as hard as she could. The bat made contact with the man’s head, just across his left temple, making a horrible cracking sound as it did so. The man fell to the ground with a thump and the bat followed him to the ground, rolling away after clattering to the floor. Lydia almost fell to her knees after exhausting so much strength. She had fallen to her knees with the effort, but wasted no time in scrambling back to her feet. Lydia’s breathing was heavy, the adrenaline was pumping through her body, and her heart hammered in her chest. 

Ultimately, the fear that the man or Jen would come after her took over and she was able to hobble away towards her escape. She got past the closet and gripped the handle of the front door, pulling it open with all her might. Still limping from the pain in her left side, she escaped the house from the front door, out on to the porch and looked for the next closest house. Her plan was to find a phone first, but she wanted to put some distance between her and her captors before she could do that, to enlist help from a stranger. But as she stepped out onto the porch, she saw a red truck driving by slowly and she ran as fast as she could, down the porch steps and out into the road. At first she tried holding up her bound arms and waving them wildly, but that hurt a lot and it didn’t seem as if the driver of the truck saw her. So she just took a deep breath and let loose a blood curdling scream. The truck skidded to a halt and the driver side door was thrown open as a man burst from it, running toward her. She sank to her knees, exhausted, but when she saw who was driving the truck, she knew she was saved and the feeling of utter relief washed through her. 

*** 

After four days, 18 hours, and 42 minutes since last seeing Lydia, Jordan could barely keep himself calm enough to drive the speed limit through neighborhoods, on his way to scope out the suspects’ home. He couldn’t help but think of everything that could go wrong – the house could be a trap, a bomb waiting inside, they could have already moved Lydia long ago leaving no trail to follow, they could have never had Lydia to start with and they were following a dead end, a wrong lead. The bad outcomes just kept piling up in his mind. He tried clearing his mind and focusing on what he would do when he saw her again, but he knew in order to ever feel calm again, he would actually need to see her safe. He radioed in as he turned down the long windy road on which the house was located. Though this was a suburb of Boston, the term only loosely applied. The houses were getting sparser with every street he passed and it more closely resembled rural farmland, small houses with large yards and plenty of open area in between each house. 

He slowed down as he neared the house, planning to drive right passed it. He radioed in again, “Agent Parrish to Homebase, tan four door sedan in driveway, possible getaway car after ditching the van. Home seems quiet, windows all shuttered close, I have no visual on the inside of the home, no confirmation of any physical presence of Bookbag. Will drive past and circle back once more. No sign of other civilians. Nearest house is 500 yards away.” He finished the official statement as he continued to drive. He was passing the next house when he heard it, the most incredible and chilling scream in his life. His blood ran cold as he looked in the rearview mirror and he saw a young woman standing in the middle of the road behind him, falling to her knees, still producing an incredibly loud, throat-searing scream.

“Agent Parrish to Homebase, visual on Bookbag! Code red! I repeat Code Red! Alert all teams, GO!” Jordan didn’t even wait for a response. Once the truck was fully stopped and he finished the all call, he jumped out of the truck and sprinted hard toward Lydia. He had to get her out of there. Her captors could be just behind her and he didn’t want to engage with them without backup. He also didn’t want her to get caught in the crossfire if it came to that during their raid. So when he got to her, kneeling in the street, he wasn’t thinking of pleasantries or of a romantic reunion, he just wanted to get her to safety. He scooped her up into a firefighter’s hold and she wrapped her arms around his neck like she would never let him go. As he was running back to the truck, he could hear her whispering his name, his heart breaking at how fragile she sounded, very unlike Lydia. 

“It’s ok, Lydia; I’ve got you. It’s ok; you’re with me now.” He kept saying these things in as calm a voice as he could all the way back to the truck, while he opened up the passenger side door and gently put her in the floor of the front seat, and even as he got into the driver’s side and sped off away from the house, but back toward the command center. He radioed in his status once again and as he turned the corner he saw the SWAT team surrounding the house. Helicopters were flying overhead and the ambulance was waiting for him when he pulled up with Lydia. It was over as quickly as it had begun; she was safe, she was with him again. 

*** 

Lydia felt herself slowly waking, she was stiff but her head was on a soft pillow and the blankets on top of her were warm and soft. She pulled at the oxygen tubes on her face, until she felt soft hands pulling them gently away and a familiar voice say, “Shhh, honey you need those, don’t pull, just relax. Everything’s ok, you’re in the hospital.” Lydia blinked her eyes open, and almost sobbed out in relief as she grabbed for her mother’s hands, never feeling more relieved to see her mom before in her life. 

“Mom!” Lydia gasped out, throat scratchy and dry and her mother pulled her into a big hug. 

“Hi honey, I’m so glad you’re back. I’m so sorry for everything, but you’re home now and you’re safe and that’s all that matters.” Natalie was rubbing her back as Lydia sobbed into her shoulder, mostly out of relief to be home. 

After Lydia took a few minutes to calm down, the doctor came in and informed her that she had two bruised ribs, a minor concussion from the initial head trauma, a few cuts and bruises that she might have sustained when they were transporting her from D.C. to Boston, and that she was still in the hospital for observation for severe dehydration. He told her that she would be able to leave the next day, but that she should stay on bed rest for the next week or so. After the doctor left, Lydia fell asleep again, feeling the effects of the painkillers they gave her for her ribs and the come down from the adrenaline rush of the whole ordeal. When she woke again, her mother ordered her dinner. Having already eaten Natalie kept her company while her daughter ate.

“Mom,” Lydia’s voice was growing stronger and it felt a lot better after drinking water and eating soft foods. “Jordan. He saved me. Where is he?” Lydia had forgotten any pretense that she didn’t know he was Secret Service. Instead, she felt robbed of her moment. She had pictured running into his arms, kissing him in the rain, him taking care of her. The reality had been a lot more abrupt and a lot less romantic; he had been all business, getting her into the truck as fast as possible and driving away with no hesitation. He had handed her off to the paramedics who got her onto a stretcher, and headed off to the hospital as soon as they could get the doors shut. She had seen him in the window of the ambulance before they darted off, while the paramedics were asking her questions. There was no kiss at all, much less one with passion and desire. When she was trapped in that basement she had been convinced that in order to feel safe again she would need to feel his arms around her again, and that feeling returned to her now. 

“Honey, I’m really sorry about this, really and truly I am, but you have to understand, I was trying to protect you. I –”

Lydia cut her mother off before she could continue with her admission, “Mom, I already know that he’s an agent. Don’t apologize; I know why you did it. He and I talked about it and I already forgive you, so don’t worry, but really, I need to see him.” Lydia gave her mother a small grin and she knew when she said it that it was the truth. 

“Honey, I know that you know.” Lydia raised her eyebrows at her mother, but Natalie continued, “He already told all of his superior officers. He was instrumental in rescuing you, you know. He was the one who narrowed down the suspect list and figured out where they were hiding and that’s on top of actually picking you up and physically bringing you to safety. The SWAT team went in after he rescued you and apprehended the suspects, both still alive, even though you did quite the number on them.” She paused for just a second, shaking her head with a look of a mixture between disbelief and pride on her face. “In the initial moments after you were taken, they got statements from everyone who was close to you trying to narrow down possible suspects and motives. When they sat down with Jordan to get his statement for the records he told them that you had known about the nature of his work from the very first day that he was assigned to you. He told them everything, even that you two had a very serious relationship together. He even said that, though he knew what he did was deserving of dishonorable discharge, he would accept that punishment and never come near you again, as long as he would be given permission to say goodbye to you one last time.” Natalie’s face showed a somber resolution to it and Lydia almost panicked.

“Mom, no! You can’t let him do that. Mom, it was my fault, I should never have let it go that far and he was only doing his job and trying to protect me and I’m the one who asked that we keep it a secret and Mom, I –” Now it was Natalie’s turn to cut off Lydia form her hurried rant.

“Honey, it’s ok. I’m Commander-in-Chief and I’ve still got some say in who comes near my family. He wasn’t dishonorably discharged and he isn’t barred from seeing you ever again. In fact, he isn’t coming to say goodbye, but he is coming to help us transport you back to D.C.” She smiled at her daughter’s face of relief. “Lydia, he saved your life. I owe him my support at the very least. And even if you had never gotten kidnapped, I would have let you two be together. He loves you and I’m pretty sure you love him right back. I see how happy you are with him. Besides, it’s my fault; I should never have tried to protect you without your consent. That was wrong of me and to make up for it, I am willing to protect Jordan’s reputation.” Natalie cupped her daughter’s face in her hands and gave her forehead a kiss.

Mom I do love him.” Lydia had nothing but genuine sincerity in her eyes when she said it, holding on to her mother’s hand. “He prioritizes me in a way that I haven’t felt in years and makes me prioritize my life differently as well. After dad died, you and I put a lot of distance between one another because it was easier for us both to cope that way. We both put work first before our friends and before each other. But after being with Jordan, I realize now how good it feels to not have to work for his attention like I do with you. Sometimes it feels like the best thing I can be for you, is invisible and I understand that, I still do, but I see how important it is now to put more effort into relationships you cherish. I’m not sure we will ever find our way back, but I really want to work on that with you. He’s shown me how important it is to move my schedule around so that I can spend more time with people I care about and I can’t believe how long we went while ignoring how much we needed each other.” Both she and her mother were shedding tears, but Lydia needed to finish what was on her mind. Maybe it was the recent events, but she didn’t want to put it off any longer. “You have given me so many opportunities in my life. You have paid for the best schools, paid for tutors and tennis and piano lessons, and clothes, not to mention the years of your life you spent raising me and I appreciate every bit of it, I really do. But I never asked to be born to this family and I think that I have put up with a lot. I think I have been a pretty good daughter and done as much as I can to make you happy. All I ask in return is that you let us be together. I love him, mom. I love him more than I can even say and I think that he could be really good for me.” Lydia found herself using a tissue to wipe her mother’s tears and hugging her again.

“Honey, you have my word; you and Jordan are free to do as you like. Jordan is an official civilian now. He did officially leave the Service and is pursuing the chance to work with the D.C. Metro Police again in the IT department or something along those lines.” Her mom squeezed her hand and took a breath before continuing. “I’ve been forced to do a lot of thinking about this family over the last few days and you’re right. You’re my daughter and I should never have let you feel neglected or unwanted.” She looked sheepish at the understatement of her words, “I am prepared to do whatever I can to make sure that you never feel that way again. You make me so incredibly proud and I love you more than anything else in the entire world. I don’t know what I would have done if I lost you and your father; who would I be without you?” She and Lydia hugged and shed a few more tears together. 

Lydia found herself feeling much the same way and incredibly grateful to her mother. “Mom, I can’t thank you enough for being such an amazing role model for me. I love you for who you are and for everything you have ever given me and I’m sorry I never said that before.”

“I love you too honey and you never ever have to apologize to me for us not communicating more; that’s my fault, not yours.” Wiping her eyes, Natalie took a more serious tone. “Now, about you and Jordan dating, I have some conditions” Lydia looked at her questioningly, but laughed when her mother said, “I would like you all to come to dinner at the House more frequently and I want you to promise that school comes first. For my part, I promise to cancel on you far less; those dinners will be my first priority.” 

“Mom, those are conditions by which I would be happy to oblige.” Lydia laughed when she said it. “Seriously, thank you.” She gave her mom a lopsided grin. Just then, the hospital door opened and Allison asked Natalie if Jordan could come in. Lydia beat her to it and answered with an enthusiastic yes. When Jordan walked through the door Lydia practically jumped off of the bed and into his arms. He stopped her from getting completely out of bed by getting to her first, but he wrapped her up in his arms and gently helped her back into her bed, taking in how comforting it felt getting to hold her in his arms again. 

“Hey Lyds.” He whispered into her ear, holding her and taking in the moment. “I love you so much. God you scared me.” He rubbed his hands gently over her back and touched his forehead to hers.

“Oh Jordan!” Lydia started bawling, taking huge gulps of breath in between sobs. 

“Lyds, Lyds, it’s ok I’ve got you now. You’re ok. It’s ok. You don’t need to be frightened anymore. I’ve got you.” Jordan was sitting on the hospital bed with her, gently rocking her to try to calm her down. 

“Oh Jordan!” Lydia exclaimed. “I really fucked up. I was taken by complete surprise and the guy who grabbed me was so strong and I couldn’t reach my panic button and I didn’t even try to fight him off and before I knew it I woke up completely scared and alone…” She was frantically rambling, close to hysterics when Jordan cut her off. 

“Lydia Martin, not another word. You are alive right now because you did everything right and I am so incredibly proud of you. There is absolutely nothing you could have done differently and attempting to fight him could have gotten you killed. If anyone is to blame, it’s me. I should have been with you, I should have had eyes on you, the back entrance should have been better protected, any number of things should have been different, but none of that is your fault. You’re home safe now.” Jordan had taken her hands in his and made sure that she looked into his eyes when he said that last bit. 

“Jordan if it’s true that none of it is my fault, then none of it is your fault either. I mean, what would you have done differently? Followed me into the bathroom?! That’s ridiculous! It all happened so quickly. Besides, I was the one who went to the bathroom without telling anyone, I should have checked in, but what’s more important than that is that when I did wake up and realized what had happened, you were the one who saved me.” Jordan looked a little incredulous, but Lydia continued. “No, seriously, all of our training together kept me alive. I heard your voice in my head, telling me exactly what to do, comforting me, and coaching me through how to survive that awful place. Thank you for that. Seriously, I was so scared, but every time I almost panicked I thought about you. You have no idea how hearing your voice in my head kept me calm and sane.” Jordan leaned in and kissed her on the forehead.

“Oh Lydia, I am so sorry that you were in a situation where you ever even needed that training. Trying to explain why I gave you any of that information to my superior officers was…uh, interesting, but I guess I am glad that you had it in any case. But from now on, I don’t want you to ever feel like you are in danger and that you need to fend for yourself ever again. I promise you that I will do better in keeping you safe.” Jordan looked tired, but resolute when he said it. 

“No Jordan. I don’t want or need any more protection. I meant it when I said I’m not a kid and that I won’t be put on a shorter leash. I’m going to live my life on my terms and I will not allow this event to force me to go into hiding.” She looked on the verge of anger, willing him to take her seriously. 

Jordan smiled at her with a look of utmost pride. “I know Lydia. I am never ever going to underestimate you and I will never lock you away. But, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t afraid. Afraid that I’ll fail you again and afraid that I won’t be there when you really need me…again. Jordan paused before continuing, “Lyds, I’m so sorry that I wasn’t there for you and that this happened to you.” Jordan couldn’t take his eyes off of Lydia. “I told you that I’d always be there for you and I wasn’t and I’m sorry that I lied and that I failed.” 

Lydia stroked his face with her hand and gave him a small smile. “Jordan, you saved me. Two of the world’s biggest idiots decided to kidnap the President’s daughter and the whole time I was in that basement I knew that you would be looking for me and it made me want to fight to make sure that I would get to be able to do this again.” Lydia reached up and pulled his head towards hers and kissed him like the time that they kissed in Paris for the first time, with all of the passion and fervor that she could muster. Jordan matched her kiss vehemently, his heart swelling in his chest, unable to hold in all of the love he felt for this wonderful, brave woman. 

***

The next day, as they were getting into the limo to take them to the airport to go back to D.C., Lydia heard Melissa say “Hellhound and Banshee are secure and leaving,” before closing the door to the limo and getting into the front seat. Lydia looked between Melissa and Jordan, eyebrows raised questioningly. 

Jordan smiled and said, “When you were first taken, I kind of lost it. I was angry and emotional. At one point I threatened to burn the world to the ground in order to find you; they actually had to take me out of a meeting once, so that’s where the name Hellhound comes from.” Lydia smiled back at him and grabbed his hand. He then said, “I’m sure you remember how you screamed when you saw my truck, well I’m the one who came up with the name Banshee. I’ll never be able to get that scream out of my head.”

“Well I had to get your attention,” Lydia said, feeling proud of her new codename, looking smug.

“Lydia, you will always have my attention.” Jordan said it and tilted her chin up with his hand so that he could kiss her and never let her go.


End file.
